Harvest-Home

[From an old copy without printer’s name or date.]

   Come, Roger and Nell,
   Come, Simpkin and Bell,
Each lad with his lass hither come;
   With singing and dancing,
   And pleasure advancing,
To celebrate harvest-home!

Chorus.  ’Tis Ceres bids play,
   And keep holiday,
To celebrate harvest-home!
   Harvest-home!
   Harvest-home!
To celebrate harvest-home!

   Our labour is o’er,
   Our barns, in full store,
Now swell with rich gifts of the land;
   Let each man then take,
   For the prong and the rake,
His can and his lass in his hand.
                  For Ceres, &c.

   No courtier can be
   So happy as we,
In innocence, pastime, and mirth;
   While thus we carouse,
   With our sweetheart or spouse,
And rejoice o’er the fruits of the earth.
                  For Ceres, &c.