Again, out of my childhood. I do recall seeing a part of it in a novel about the Gloucester fishing fleet. The “Lead her to the altar” verse was given to me by Greg Brown, a singer and fiddler from Newfoundland whom I met in Texas.
Take her by the little white hand, lead her like a pigeon,
Make her dance to Weevily Wheat and scatter her religion
In the ear my true-love's a posy blowing
Wheat in the ear, I’m going back to sea
Wheat in the ear, I left you fit for sowing
When I come back what a loaf of bread you’ll be
Trading boats have gone ashore, trading boats are landing
Trading boats have gone ashore all loaded down with brandy
In the ear my true-love's a posy blowing...
I don’t want your weevily wheat, I don’t want your barley;
I want some flour and a half an hour to bake a cake for Charlie
In the ear my true-love's a posy blowing...
Take her by the little white hand, lead her to the altar
Hug her neat and kiss her sweet, Mumma’s runaway daughter
In the ear my true-love's a posy blowing...