The sun has gone down and the sky it looks red
Down on my soft pillow where I lay my head
When I open my eyes for to see the stars shine
Then the thoughts of my true love run into my mind

The sap has gone down and the leaves they do fall
To hedging and ditching! our farmers they'll call
We will trim up their hedges, we will cut down their wood
And the farmers they'll all say, "Our faggots run good"

Now hedging being over, then sawing draws near
We will send for the sawyer, the woods for to clear
And after he has sawed them and tumbled them down
Then there he will floor them all on the cold ground

When sawing is over, then seed-time comes round
See our teams, they are all ready preparing the ground
Then the man with his seed-lip he'll scatter the corn
Then the harrows they will bury, to keep it from harm

Now seed-time being over, then haying draws near
With our scythe, rake, and pitch-fork, those meadows to clear
We will cut down their grass, boys, and carry it away
We will turn it to the green grass and then call it hay

When haying is over, then harvest draws near
We will send to our brewer to brew us strong beer
And in brewing strong beer, we will cut down their corn
We will take it to the barn, boys, to keep it from harm

Now harvest being over, bad weather comes on
We will send for the thrasher to thrash out the corn
His hand-staff he'll handle, his swinger he'll swing
'Til the very next harvest we'll all meet again

Now since we have brought this so cheerfully round
We will send for the jolly ploughman to plough up the ground
See the boy with his whip and the man to his plough
Here's a health to the jolly ploughman that ploughs up the ground

Now things they do change as the time passes on
I'm afraid I'll have occasion to alter my song
You'll see a boy with a tractor a-going like hell
Whatever farming is coming to, there's no tongue can tell