Joys of the harvest/The joys of the harvest

The JOYS of the HARVEST.

COME all ye lads and lasses,
⁠together let us go,
Into some pleasant corn field,
⁠our courage for to show;

With the edges of our sickles,
⁠so brave we clear the land;
Work on my boys the farmer cries,
⁠here’s liquor at command.

With a good old leathern bottle,
⁠and beer that is so brown,
We strip and reap together,
⁠while bright Phœbus does go down.

So early in the morning,
⁠the birds begin to sing,
Such echoes of sweet harmony,
⁠makes all the groves to ring.

And in comes pretty Nancy,
⁠her colour for to raise,
She is a lovely creature,
⁠I must speak in her praise:

She is a lovely creature,
⁠the flower of my delight,
Through all the groves and forests,
⁠I'll range both day and night

John Preston has good liquor,
⁠good liquor it is said,
Good liquor makes good blood,
⁠and good blood pretty maids.

She gathers it and she binds it,
⁠she loads it in her arms,
She pitch’d it to the waggoner,
⁠for to fill up his barns.

And thus the industrious farmer,
⁠by the sweet of his brow,
He labours and endeavours,
⁠to make his barley mow.

Now harvest it’s all over,
⁠and corn it's free from harm;
Before we to the market go,
⁠we must thresh in the barn.

And at the harvest supper,
⁠so merrily we will sing,
We’ll drink a health to the barley-mow,
⁠and to good George our King.

So here’s a good health to the farmers,
⁠or else we are to blame,
We’ll wish them health and happiness,
⁠’till harvest comes again.