Come all you lads and lasses, together we will go
All in the golden cornfield our courage for to show.
With the reaping hook and sickle so well we clear the land,
And the farmer says, “Hoorah, me boys, here’s liquor at your command.”
It’s in the time of haying our partners we do take,
Along with lads and lasses the hay timing to make.
There’s joining round in harmony and roundness to be seen,
And when it’s gone we’ll take your girls to dance Jack on the green.
It’s in the time of harvest so cheerfully we’ll go,
Then some we’ll reap and some we’ll sickle and some we’ll size to mow.
But now at end we’re free for home, we haven’t far to go,
We’re on our way to Robin Hood’s Bay to welcome harvest home.
Now harvest’s done and ended and the corn all safe from harm,
And all that’s left to do, me boys, is thresh it in the barn.
Here’s a health to all the farmers, likewise the women and men,
And we wish you health and happiness till harvest comes again.