COME Roger, come Nell,
come Simkin, come Bell;
Each lad, with his lass, hither come,
With singing and dancing,
In pleasures advancing,
To celebrate harvest home,
For Ceres bids play,
And keep holiday,
To celebrate harvest home, harvest home,
To celebrate harvest home.
Our labours are o'er,
Our barns in full store, Now swell with rich gifts of the land,
Then let each man take
His prone and rake,
With his cann, and his lass, in his hand.
What mortal can be,
So happy as we,
In innocent pastime and mirth,
While this we carouse,
With our sweethearts and spouse,
And rejoice o'er the fruits of the earth.
