A-roving on last winter's night And a-drinkin' good old wine, Thinkin' about that dear little girl, She broke this heart of mine. For she is like a budded rose, That blooms in the month of June. She likes some musical instrument, That's just been played in tune. Oh who's a-gonna shoe your poor little foot, And who's will glove your hand? Who will kiss your red ruby lips, And, who's a-gonna be your man? Oh who's a-gonna shoe your poor little foot, And who's will glove your hand? Who will kiss your red ruby lips, And, who's a-gonna be your man? Perhaps a trip to far off land, A trip to France or Spain, But if I go ten thousand miles, I'm coming back again. A-roving on last winter's night And a-drinkin' good old wine, Thinkin' about that dear little girl, She broke this heart of mine.