The gloaming Oh

When I was new, but sweet sixteen 
And beauty all in blooming oh
Its little, little I did think that at nineteen I'd be greiving oh, 
For the ploughman lads they're gay wee lads
They are false and deceiving oh
They'll pack their kist
And they'll sign and list
And they'll leave their lasses grieving oh.

For they have putten me from loping styles
From balls and from singing oh
They have given me the balance to my 'seys*
And they says its in the fashion oh.

For if I had known what I now know
And taken my mother's biding oh
I would not be sitting here at your fireside 
Crying hushebar my bairns oh

For it's hushebar for I'm your ma
And Lord knows where your daddy goes
You all be ware and you all take care 
Of the young men and the gloaming oh. 

* as in courtsey