Oh, the shanty man's
life is a wearisome life
Although some think it's
void of care
Swinging an axe from morning to night
In the midst of the forest so drear
Lying in the shanty, bleak and cold
While the cold stormy wintry winds blow
And as soon as the daylight doth appear
To the wild woods we must go
Bullock cook rises up in the
middle of the night
Sing hurrah, boys, it's day
Broken slumbers of t times are past
As the cold winter night wows away
Had we run out of beer,
our spirits for to cheer
As the day is so lonely but mild
Oh, a glass of any strong
wine in the woods alone
For to cheer up our troubled minds
But in spring it does set in,
double hardships begin
When the waters are pierced and cold
Our clothes are dripping wet
and fingers be numb
And our pike poles we scarcely can roll
We twigs and rocks,
shoals and sands give employment to our hands
Our world made with raft or steer
And the rapids that we run,
oh they seem to us but fun
For we're void of all slavish fee
Oh, shanty lad is the only lad I love
I never will deny the same
My heart does scorn these
conceited farmer boys
Who think it ain't disgraceful name
They may boast about their farms,
but my shanty boy has charms
So far for surpassing them all
Until death and death must part,
He shall enjoy my heart,
Let
His riches be great or small.