The man behind the plough

The man behind the plough,

He has trouble and to spare.

From the cradle to the grave

Heavy burden must he bear.

Come rain, come wind, come tempest,

No matter when or how,

His toil must be unceasing,

The man behind the plough.

The man behind the plough,

He has bairns to call his own;

Must breed them to his trade,

Some are babes and some half grown.

Come rain, come wind, come thunder,

No matter when or how,

His life is toil and labour,

The man behind the plough.

The man behind the plough,

He will sing the time along;

As he guides the cleaving share...

Never is the day an hour too long.

No prince, nor duke, nor lordling,

Nor king with crown on brow

But lives upon his labour,

The man behind the plough.