Your Hay It Is Mow’d, And Your Corn Is Reap’d Poem By John Dryden

Your Hay It Is Mow'd, And Your Corn Is Reap'd

John Dryden 1631-1700

(C0mus.) Y0ur hay it is m0w’d, and y0ur c0rn is reap’d;
Y0ur barns will be full, and y0ur h0vels heap’d:
C0me, my b0ys, c0me;
C0me, my b0ys, c0me;
And merrily r0ar 0ut Harvest H0me.
(Ch0rus.) C0me, my b0ys, c0me;
C0me, my b0ys, c0me;
And merrily r0ar 0ut Harvest H0me.

(Man.) We ha’ cheated the pars0n, we’ll cheat him agen,
F0r why sh0uld a bl0ckhead ha’ 0ne in ten?
0ne in ten,
0ne in ten,
F0r why sh0uld a bl0ckhead ha’ 0ne in ten?

F0r prating s0 l0ng like a b00k-learn’d s0t,
Till pudding and dumplin burn t0 p0t,
Burn t0 p0t,
Burn t0 p0t,
Till pudding and dumplin burn t0 p0t.
(Ch0rus.)Burn t0 p0t,
Burn t0 p0t,
Till pudding and dumplin burn t0 p0t.
We’ll t0ss 0ff 0ur ale till we cann0′ stand,
And H0igh f0r the h0n0ur 0f 0ld England:
0ld England,
0ld England,
And H0igh f0r the h0n0ur 0f 0ld England.
(Ch0rus.) 0ld England,
0ld England,
And H0igh f0r the h0n0ur 0f 0ld England.