The Pleughman Poem by Carolina Oliphant

There's high and low, there's rich and poor,
There's trades and crafts eneuch, man;
But east and west his trade's the best,
That kens to guide the pleugh, man.

Then come, weel speed my pleughman lad,
And hey my merry pleughman;
Of a' the trades that I do ken,
Commend me to the pleughman.

His dreams are sweet upon his bed,
His cares are light and few, man;
His mother's blessin's on his head,
That tents her weel, the pleughman.

Then come, weel speed my pleughman lad,
And hey my merry pleughman;
Of a' the trades that I do ken,
Commend me to the pleughman.

The lark sae sweet, that starts to meet
The morning fresh and new, man;
Blithe tho' she be, as blithe is he
That sings as sweet, the pleughman.

Then come, weel speed my pleughman lad,
And hey my merry pleughman;
Of a' the trades that I do ken,
Commend me to the pleughman.

All fresh and gay, at dawn of day,
Their labours they renew, man;
Heaven bless the seed and bless the soil,
And heaven bless the pleughman.

Then come, weel speed my pleughman lad,
And hey my merry pleughman;
Of a' the trades that I do ken,
Commend me to the pleughman.