The Irish Dragoons, or, Pretty Peggy of Derby O/Jack the broom-cutter

JACK THE BROOM-CUTTER.

THere was an old man and he liv'd in the weſt,
& his trade it was cutting of broom, green broom,
And he had a lazy buy Jack to his ſon,
⁠that would ly in bed till it was noon, noon, noon,
⁠that would ly in his bed till it was noon.

So the old man aroſe, and to his ſon goes,
⁠and ſwore he would fire the room, room, room,
If Jack would not riſe, and ſharp up his knives,
⁠and go to the wood and cut broom, green broom,
⁠and go to the wood and cut broom,

So Jack he aroſe and put on his clothes,
⁠he cursed, he ſwore, and he foam'd, foam'd, foam'd,
That a man of ſuch blood, and learning ſo good,
⁠ſhould go to the wood to cut broom, green broom,
⁠ſhould go to the wood to cut broom.

So Jack he paſs'd on, to the green wood he's gone,
⁠for to gather a bundle of broom, green broom:
He curs'd and he ſwore that he ne'er would go more,
⁠unto the wood for to cut broom, green broom,
⁠unto the wood for to cut broom.

So Jack he paſs'd on, till where he was not known,
⁠'till he came to a caſtle of fame, fame, fame,
He tapp'd at the gate as loud as he could ſpeak,
⁠ſaying, maids, will ye buy any broom, green broom,
⁠ſaying, maids, will ye buy any broom.

There was a Lady up high and ſhe did him eſpy,
⁠and his beauty ſet her in a flame, flame flame;
Shc call'd to her maids as loud as the could ſpeak,
⁠call in that fair youth and his broom, green broom,
⁠call in that fair youth and his broom.

So Jack tripp'd up ſtairs without dread or fear,
⁠till he came to this fair Lady's room, room, room,
Then ſmiling, ſhe ſaid, would you quite your trade,
⁠and marry a Lady in bloom, bloom, bloom,
⁠and marry a Lady in bloom.

I would, I proteſt, then Jack, he reply'd,
⁠but how dare I the ſame preſume, preſume,
With compliments fine he pleaſur'd her mind:
⁠ſo this couple were wed in room, room, room,
⁠ſo this couple were wed in the room.

There is no broom-cutter that lives in the weſt,
⁠but calls at this fair Lady's room, room, room,
There's money, meat and drink, boys, what do you think;
⁠there's no trade like the making of broom, green broom,
⁠Where's no trade like the making of broom.