The Tippling Farmer (2)/Farewell to Spring

by Anonymous

Farewell to Spring.

⁠Farewell to spring, virgins and wives,
Blithe bloom when saffron grows dark,
Our harvest is come, come lads to your reaping,
Your sickles are keen, come lads to your reaping,
Come lasses to glean, plow and sow.

⁠The sun peeps so broad, and the twilight is sl(illegible text)
the dawn of the morning throws of the grey g(illegible text)
Come lads to your labour, ’tis welcome the d(illegible text)
Your hearty meal’s meat shall your labour r(illegible text)

(illegible text)odge cross his shoulder from the barn bears a flail,
(illegible text)lst Nest crosses the stile, on her head a full pail,
(illegible text) cattle well fodder’d, to the cottage let’s haste
(illegible text)other pains take on brown bread make a feast.

(illegible text)her courtly nor costly, nor book learnt we shew,
A dressing, plain dealing is all that we know,
(illegible text)ares run across us, but those loves we find,
(illegible text)e cured if your sweetheart proves but kind.