Well met, well met, my friend, all on the highway riding,
Though freely together here we stand.
I pray do tell to me of what calling this shall be
And art thou not a servingman?

Oh no, my brother dear, what makes you to inquire
Of any such thing from my hand?
Indeed I will not feign but I will tell you plain:
I am a downright husbandman.

Well, if a husbandman you be, will go walk with me,
Though freely together here we stand.
For in a very short space I may take you to a place
Where you may he a servingman.

Now still I'm diligence, I give thee many thanks,
But naught do I require from thine hand.
But I pray now to me show wherefor that I may know
The pleasures of a servingman.

Well, isn't it a nice thing to ride out with a king,
With lords, dukes or any such men;
For to hear the horn to blow and see the hounds all in a row,
That's pleasures of a servingman.

But my pleasure's more than that, to see my oxen fat
And a good stock of hay by them stand;
With my plowing and my sowing, my reaping and my mowing,
That's pleasures of an husbandman.

But then we do wear the finest of grandure,
My coat is trim with fur all around;
Our shirts are white as milk and my stockings made of silk:
That's clothing for a servingman.

As to thy grandure give I the coat I wear
Some bushes to ramble among;
Give to me a good greatcoat and in my purse a grout,
That's clothing for an husbandman.

But then we do eat the most delicate fine meat
Of goose, and of capon, and of swan;
Our pastry's made so fine, we drink sugar in our wine,
That's diet for a servingman.

While you eat ducks and capons, give I my beans and bacon,
And a good drop of ale now and then;
For in a farmer's house you will find both brawn and souse,
That's a living for an husbandman.

Kind sir, I must confess although it causes me distress
To grant to you the uppermost hand;
Although it is most painful, it is altogether gainful
And I wish I'd been a husbandman.

So now, good people all, both be you great and small,
All know the king of our land;
And let us, whatsoever, to do our best endeavor,
For to maintain an husbandman.

In the 60s folk revival, lots of bands took folk songs and turned them into pop or rock. Young Tradition condemned themselves to obscurity by their purist approach – letting folk music sound like folk music. This song is a lively dialogue between a soldier and a farmer , which seems to date back to Shakespeare´s day and is dripping with delicious anachronisms:-

Some old salty, how he used to rock me.
Jelly roll or Jerry Lee, how he used to rock me.
Salt fare. North Sea.
Weird stare, further than the eye can see.
He had a head like a toy shop.
Bow legged stance off, must have been the rolling sea.
Hull Fair waltzers, bopping to Brenda Lee.
River boat jazz cruise, jiving to the Two-Nineteen.
Down there for dancing, come on Mr Chester please.
Play “Deliah's gone” for one more round, some old Salty's on his feet.

In the same era, The Waterson family were probably the best-known group on the purists' folk club circuit, but the song I´ve chosen is deceptive; sounds like an old sea shanty, but was written, perhaps as recently as 1996 by Lal Waterson, youngest member of the Waterson clan. To keep things in the family, she sings it with her son, Oliver.

One of the song's rather criptic references is to "the two nineteen". This was the name of a UK skiffle group, active in the 1950s, who usually wrote their name, "The 2.19"