An' said, "how be yer, Jonathan,"
I swow, I couldn't speak.
'Twuz worth a year of city life,
An' more than kingdom come—
'Bout all the fun o' goin' off
Is jest a gettin' hum.
I swow, I couldn't speak.
'Twuz worth a year of city life,
An' more than kingdom come—
'Bout all the fun o' goin' off
Is jest a gettin' hum.
SONG OF THE PLOUGHMAN
Bring forth the plough, the frost is out,
And spring is here without a doubt;
Upon the cattle put their yoke,
The field and fallow must be broke,
For he who reaps in harvesting
Must sow his seeds in early spring.
And spring is here without a doubt;
Upon the cattle put their yoke,
The field and fallow must be broke,
For he who reaps in harvesting
Must sow his seeds in early spring.
The plough is brought from loft or shed,
And forth the sturdy steers are led,
The yoke is placed upon their necks,
The plough is scoured all free from specks,
Then Sam, the plough boy, whip in hand,
Beside the cattle takes his stand.
And forth the sturdy steers are led,
The yoke is placed upon their necks,
The plough is scoured all free from specks,
Then Sam, the plough boy, whip in hand,
Beside the cattle takes his stand.
Turn, turn, turn, empty are crib and bin,
Turn, turn, turn, ploughing the daisies in,
Turn, turn, turn, breaking the tufted sward,
Turn, turn, turn, reaping a rich reward.
Turn, turn, turn, ploughing the daisies in,
Turn, turn, turn, breaking the tufted sward,
Turn, turn, turn, reaping a rich reward.
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