In the heat of the daytime It's but little we can do. We will lie beside our oxen For an hour, or for two. On the banks of sweet violets, I'll take my noontide rest, And it's I can kiss a pretty girl As hearty as the best. With my Hump a long! &c. 4 When the sun at eve is setting And the shadows fill the vale, Then our throttles we'll be wetting, With the farmer's humming ale. And the oxen home returning We will send into the stall. Where the logs and turf are burning, We'll be merry ploughboys all. With my Hump a long! &c. 5 O the farmer must have seed, sirs, Or I swear he cannot sow. And the miller with his mill wheel Is an idle man also. And the huntsman gives up hunting, And the tradesman stands aside, And the poor man bread is wanting, So 'tis we for all provide. With my Hump a long! &c. [Footnote 18: Or any other suitable hill.] No. 58 FLORA, THE LILY OF THE WEST C.J.S. [Music: in D minor] 1 'Twas when I came to England, some pleasures for to find, There I espied a damsel most pleasing to my mind; Her rosy cheeks and shining eyes as arrows pierced my breast, Her name was lovely Flora, the Lily of the West. 2 Her golden hair in ringlets hung, her dress was spangled o'er; She'd rings on every finger, brought from a foreign shore; 'Twould ruin kings and princes, so richly was she dress'd, She far excelleth Venus, this Lily of the West. 3 I courted her a fortnight, in hopes her love to gain, But soon she turn'd against me, which caused all my pain. She robb'd me of my freedom, she robb'd me of my rest, I roam, forsook of Flora, the Lily of the West. 4 Alas! where'er I wander, however much I will, The thought of that fair maiden abideth with me still; For ever I am downcast, for ever sore oppress'd, An outcast e'er from Flora, the Lily of the West. No. 58 FLORA, THE LILY OF THE WEST C.J.S. [Music: in G Major] 1 'Twas when I came to England, some pleasure for to find, There I espied a damsel most pleasing to my mind; Her rosy cheeks and shining eyes as arrows pierced my breast, Her name was Lovely Flora, the Lily of the West. 2 Her golden hair in ringlets hung, her dress was spangled o'er; She'd rings on every finger, brought from a foreign shore; 'Twould ruin kings and princes, so richly was she dress'd, She far excelleth Venus, this Lily of the West. 3 I courted her a fortnight, in hopes her love to gain, But soon she turn'd against me, which caused all my pain. She robb'd me of my freedom, she robb'd me of my rest, I roam, forsook of Flora, the Lily of the West. 4 Alas! where'er I wander, however much I will The thought of that fair maiden abideth with me still; For ever I am downcast, for ever am oppress'd, An outcast e'er from Flora, the Lily of the West. No. 59 THE SIMPLE PLOUGHBOY C.J.S. [Music] 1