a roving we went my true love and i amongst the corn and the maize when death leaned in with his sickle and clock and swept my true love away i have followed the nightjar home to her bed i have followed the sound of her heart over field and valley i ve counted them fly and the seventh is always apart so a roving i ll go through my fields once more with my ear to the maize and the corn and wait for the day that death comes for me to carry me back to her arms to her arms boys to her arms boys to carry me back to her arms and a roving i ll go until death comes for me to carry me back to her arms