A-roving on last winter's night
And a-drinkin' good old wine,
Thinkin' about that dear little girl,
She broke this heart of mine.
For she is like a budded rose,
That blooms in the month of June.
She likes some musical instrument,
That's just been played in tune.
Oh who's a-gonna shoe your poor little foot,
And who's will glove your hand?
Who will kiss your red ruby lips,
And, who's a-gonna be your man?
Oh who's a-gonna shoe your poor little foot,
And who's will glove your hand?
Who will kiss your red ruby lips,
And, who's a-gonna be your man?
Perhaps a trip to far off land,
A trip to France or Spain,
But if I go ten thousand miles,
I'm coming back again.
A-roving on last winter's night
And a-drinkin' good old wine,
Thinkin' about that dear little girl,
She broke this heart of mine.
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