I GATHER THREE EARS OF CORN

I gather three ears of corn,

And the Black Earl from over the sea

Sails across in his silver ships,

And takes two out of the three.

I might build a house on the hill

And a barn of the speckly stone,

And tell my little stocking of gold,

If the Earl would let me alone.

But he has no thought for me —

Only the thought of his share,

And the softness of the linsey shifts

His lazy daughters wear.

There is a God in heaven,

And angels, score on score,

Who will not see my hearthstone cold

Because I'm crazed and poor.

My childer have my blood,

And when they get their beards

They will not be content to run

As gillies to their herds!

The day will come, maybe,

When we can have our own,

And the Black Earl will come to us

Begging the bacach's bone!