A Hymn for Harvest Home


Chorus:

Come sing a song of Harvesthome
The god is dead -- hurray!
Come sing of old John Barleycorn
Who'll live again -- some day!

Oh we'll brew some ale and bake some bread,
Lay down some cider too.
Make certain every soul be fed
Before the day is through.

Chorus:

The sun was born last yuletide eve;
Full grown by Lady Day.
Became the goddess' faithful reeve
At Beltane's fire in May.

Chorus:

The god became the tiny seed
We buried in the ground,
And grew so tall a plant indeed
With barley thick around.

Chorus:

The scythe so sharp has cut him down --
Has brought him to his knee
But the gift he bought us with his death
Will feed this family.

Chorus:

So break some bread and lift your cup
To Old John Barleycorn.
At bounteous tables let us sup
And sing until the morn.

Chorus:

For we some day must face the blade,
Fall silent in the snow.
But like the god we'll never fade --
We rise again, we know!

Chorus:

The Lady guides us through the night,
Through Samhane's misty gleam,
And brings us back into the light
From out a pleasant dream.

Chorus:

So toast the Lady and the Lord
And hold your glasses high.
And sit before the groaning board,
And drink your flagons dry!

Chorus:

So sing a song of Harvesthome
The god is dead -- hurray!
So sing of old John Barleycorn
Who'll live again -- some day!