The black horse draws the cart
And he's as proud as any
Say will I like the lad
That drives them on so canny
Feather beds are fine
And painted rooms are bonny
But I would leave them all
To jog away with Johnny
Oh, for Saturday night
It's I that'll see my dearie
He'll come whistlin' in
When I am tired and weary.
First when I came to the town
They called me proud and saucy
Now they've changed my name
Called me the Leaboy's lassie.