Craic in the Stone

Lyrics

As he walked out one morning
he spied a pretty lass,
Belonging to a dairyman
I had a field of grass,
And it grew between two mountains
beside a running stream.
And I asked him to cut it down
while the small birds sweetly sing.

He said, "My pretty young maid,
what wages do you give?
For mowing, it is hard labor
unless your scythe is good."
I said, "If you do please me,
as I am laying here,
I will give you a crown an acre
and plenty of strong beer."

So he said, "My pretty young maid,
I like your wages well,
For if I mow your grass down,
you shall say it's done well.
For my scythe it is in good order
and lately has been sound.
So my bonnie lass, I'll mow your grass
until it's to the ground."

I said, "My handsome young man,
will you now begin,
For my grass isn’t in good order
and I long to have it in.
It is such pleasant weather,
I long to clear the ground
So keep your scythe in order
and mow my meadow down."

Then with courage like a lion,
he walked into the field,
But before he'd mowed one swathe of grass,
he was obliged to yield.
Before he'd mowed one swathe of grass
his scythe got bent and broke.
I said, "My handsome young man,
you're tired of your work."

So he said, “My pretty young maid,
do not on me frown,
For if I stayed all summer long
I could not cut it down,
It is such a pleasant place and
grows such crops of grass,
And it is well-watered by the spring
that makes it grow so fast.”

I said, “My man, you must give in
for energy you lack.
For mowing is hard labour and
weakening to the back,
Mowing is hard labour and
it you must forsake,
But around my little meadow,
you may use your fork and rake.”