The Hock-cart, or Harvest Home

2Come, sons of summer, by whose toil

3We are the lords of wine and oil;

4By whose tough labours, and rough hands,

5We rip up first, then reap our lands.

6Crown'd with the ears of corn, now come,

7And to the pipe sing Harvest Home.

8Come forth, my lord, and see the cart

9Dress'd up with all the country art.

10See, here a malkin, there a sheet,

11As spotless pure, as it is sweet;

12The horses, mares, and frisking fillies,

13(Clad, all, in linen, white as lilies.)

14The harvest swains and wenches bound

15For joy, to see the Hock-cart crown'd.

16About the cart, hear, how the rout

17Of rural younglings raise the shout;

18Pressing before, some coming after,

19Those with a shout, and these with laughter.

20Some bless the cart; some kisses the sheaves;

21Some prank them up with oaken leaves;

22Some cross the fill-horse; some with great

23Devotion, stroke the home-borne wheat;

24While other rustics, less attent

25To prayers than to merriment,

26Run after with their breeches rent.

27Well, on, brave boys, to your lord's hearth,

28Glitt'ring with fire, where, for your mirth,

29Ye shall see first the large and chief

30Foundation of your feast, fat beef,

31With upper stories, mutton, veal,

32And bacon, (which makes full the meal)

33With sev'ral dishes standing by,

34As here a custard, there a pie,

35And here all tempting frumenty.

36And for to make the merry cheer,

37If smirking wine be wanting here,

38There's that which drowns all care, stout beer,

39Which freely drink to your lord's health,

40Then to the plough, (the common-wealth)

41Next to your flails, your fanes, your fats;

42Then to the maids with wheaten hats;

43To the rough sickle and crook'd scythe,

44Drink frolic boys, till all be blythe.

45Feed and grow fat; and as ye eat,

46Be mindful, that the lab'ring neat

47(As you) may have their fill of meat

48And know, besides, ye must revoke

49The patient ox unto the yoke,

50And all go back unto the plough

51And harrow, (though they're hang'd up now.)

52And, you must know, your lord's word's true,

53Feed him ye must, whose food fills you.

54And that this pleasure is like rain,

55Not sent ye for to drown your pain,

56But for to make it spring again.