Crafty miller, or, The mistaken batchelor/Farewel to spring

FAREWEL to SPRING.

FAREWEL to spring, virgins and wives,
Blithe bloom when saffron grows dark,
Our harvest is come, come lads to your reaping,
Your sickles are keen, come lads to your reaping,
Come lasses to glean, plough and sow.

The sun peeps so broad, and the twylight is flown,
The dawn of the morning throws off the grey gown,
Come lads to your labour, 'tis welcome the day,
Your hearty meal's meat shall your labour repay.

Hoge cross his shoulder from the barn bears a flail,
Whilst Nell crosses the stile, on her head a full pall,
Our cattle well fodder'd, to the cottage let's haste,
No other pains take, on brown bread make a feast.

Neither courtly nor costly, nor book-learnt we show,
Plain dressing, plain dealing is all that we know,
No cares run across us, bur those loves we find,
Those cured if your sweetheart proves but kind.