In the fields where all the pipeweed grew
Come and sit with me as I tell me tale
one of danger, loss and sinful pride
From the Burrow farm, where the farmer’s son
was about to go and find a bride
He combed his hair with the utmost care
and he wore a woolly waistcoat blue
And he found a flower in the early hour
in the fields where all the pipeweed grew
But the lasses here crave a special treat
from a lad who comes to court their hand
There’s no finer thing than a biscuit sweet
say the daughters of the local land
The farmer’s son made both scone and bun
and some biscuits of golden nutty hue
There were more than eight cooling on a plate
in the fields where all the pipeweed grew
It was nearing noon when the farmer’s son
went to get his cooling pastry plates
With his head held high he went to the fields
when he stopped and stared and cursed the fates
No pastry here, not a crumb was there
but a sound from the fields was coming through
Someone ate their brunch, with a munch and crunch
in the fields where all the pipeweed grew#
Now the farmer’s son broke into a run
with a shout that made the air turn blue
But the pastry thief was a skillful one
hiding better than a sleeping shrew
“You deceitful lout, I will smoke you out”
“Bring me all of my pastry good as new!”
Not a sound came through, save a crunchy chew
in the fields where all the pipeweed grew
Now the farmer’s son made a cunning plan
one that’s sure to end his biscuit drought
So he gathered leaves from the pipeweed fields
starting fires to flush the rascal out
He got a scare when a gust of air
made the fire spread and smoke block all his view
With a crackling sound fire spread around
in the fields where all the pipeweed grew
Come and sit with me as I tell me tale
one of danger, loss and sinful pride
From the Burrow farm, where the farmer’s son
never found a sweet and lovely wife
But he found the thief who just gave him grief
and her bottom turned well and truly blue
Then he closed up show, for there was no crop
in the fields where all the pipeweed grew
