And on my head a good gray hat,

And in't ich sticke a lovely rose.

Cho. And on his head a good gray hat,
And in't he'll stick a lovely rose.

Wherefore cease off, make no delay,
And if you'll love me, love me now;
Or els ich zeeke zome oder where,-

For Ich cannot come every day to woo.
Cho. Or else he'll zeeke zome oder where,
For he cannot come every day to woo.

VI.

Harvest-Home Song.

OUR copy of this song is taken from one in the Roxburgh Collection, where it is called, The Country Farmer's vain glory; in a new song of Harvest Home, sung to a new tune much in request. Licensed according to order.

OUR oats they are howed, and our barley's reaped, Our hay is mowed, and our hovels heaped;

Harvest home! harvest home!

We'll merrily roar out our harvest home!
Harvest home! harvest home!

We'll merrily roar out our harvest home!
We'll merrily roar out our harvest home!

We cheated the parson, we'll cheat him again;
For why should the vicar have one in ten?
One in ten! one in ten!

For why should the vicar have one in ten?
For why should the vicar have one in ten?
For staying while dinner is cold and hot,
And pudding and dumpling's burnt to pot;
Burnt to pot! burnt to pot!

Till pudding and dumpling's burnt to pot,
Burnt to pot! burnt to pot!

We'll drink off the liquor while we can stand,
And hey for the honour of old England!
Old England! old England!

And hey for the honour of old England!
Old England! old England!

Printed for P. Brooksby, J. Dencon, [Deacon]. J. Blai[r], and

J. Back.

VII.

Harvest Home.

From an old copy without printer's name or date.

Chorus.

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!

'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.

VIII.

The Wow.

A HARVEST HOME SONG.

Tune," Where the bee sucks."

THIS favourite song, copied from a chap-book called The Whistling Ploughman, published at the commencement of the present century, is written in imitation of Ariel's song, in the Tempest. It is probably taken from some defunct ballad-opera.

N

Now our work's done, thus we feast,

After labour comes our rest;
Joy shall reign in every breast,

And right welcome is each guest:
After harvest merrily,

Merrily, merrily, will we sing now,

After the harvest that heaps up the mow.

Now the plowman he shall plow,

And shall whistle as he go,

Whether it be fair or blow,

For another barley mow,

O'er the furrow merrily:

Merrily, merrily, will we sing now,
After the harvest, the fruit of the plow.

Toil and plenty, toil and ease,
Still the husbandman he sees;
Whether when the winter freeze,
Or in summer's gentle breeze;
Still he labours merrily,

Merrily, merrily, after the plow,

He looks to the harvest, that gives us the mow.

IX.

The Barley Mow Song.

THIS song is sung at country meetings in Devon and Cornwall, particularly on completing the carrying of the barley, when

the rick, or mow of barley, is finished. On putting up the last sheaf, which is called the craw, (or crow) sheaf, the man who has it cries out "I have it, I have it, I have it;" another says, "What have'ee, what have'ee, what have'ee?" The answer is, "A craw! a craw! a craw!" there is then some cheering, &c., and a supper afterwards. The effect of the barleymow song cannot be given in words, it should be heard, to appreciate it properly, particularly with the West-country dialect.

HERE'S a health to the barley-mow, my brave boys,
Here's a health to the barley-mow!

We'll drink it out of the jolly brown bowl,
Here's a health to the barley-mow!

Cho. Here's a health to the barley-mow, my brave boys,
Here's a health to the barley-mow!

We'll drink it out of the nipperkin, boys,
Here's a health to the barley-mow!
The nipperkin and the jolly brown bowl,
Cho. Here's a health, &c.

We'll drink it out of the quarter-pint, boys,
Here's a health to the barley-mow!
The quarter-pint, nipperkin, &c.

Cho. Here's a health, &c.

We'll drink it out of the half-a-pint, boys,
Here's a health to the barley-mow!

The half-a-pint, quarter-pint, &c.

Cho. Here's a health, &c.