Poetry Archives

I know where I’m going,
I know who’s going with me,
I know who I love,
But the dear knows who I’ll marry.

I’ll have stockings of silk,
Shoes of fine green leather,
Combs to buckle my hair
And a ring for every finger.

Feather beds are soft,
Painted rooms are bonny;
But I’d leave them all
To go with my love Johnny.

Some say he’s dark,
I say he’s bonny,
He’s the flower of them all
My handsome, coaxing Johnny.

I know where I’m going,
I know who’s going with me,
I know who I love,
But the dear knows who I’ll marry.