Harvest home

Od paru dni jestem oczarowany tą ludową melodią, radującą serca wielu.

Your hay it is mow’d and your corn is reap’d,
Your barns will be full your hovels heap’d.
Come, boys, come, come, boys, come,
And merrily roar out our harvest home!

Harvest home, Harvest home,
And merrily roar out our harvest home!

We’ve cheated the parson, we’ll cheat him again,
For why should a blockhead have one in ten?

For prating so long, like a book-learnt sot,
Till pudding and dumpling are burnt to th’ pot;

We’ll toss off our ale till we cannot stand,
And heigh for the honour of England.

Henry Purcell (1659-1695) – ritornello Harvest Home z opery Król Artur