Harvest song


Verse 1

Here's a health unto our master,
The founder of the feast,
We hope to God with all out hearts
His soul in heaven may rest;
That all his works may prosper,
Whatever he takes in hand,
For we are all his servants,
And all at his command


So drink, boys, drink,
And see that you do not spill;
For if you do, you shall drink two,
For 'tis our master's will.

Verse 2

And now we've drunk out master's health,
Why should our missus go free?
For shouldn't she go to heaven,
To heaven as well as he?
She is a good purvider,
Abroad as well as at home;
So fill your cup and drink it all up,
For 'tis our harvest home.