Reap And Mow The Hay

Reap And Mow The Hay - Donal Lunny

I just come o'er from Erin's shore

To see how trade was going here

Like many a rambling Irishman

I was forced to leave my home

I left my sweet Dungannon boys

Where I spent my youthful days

Where I whistled fought and wrestled

In the County of Tyrone

The landlord and the times was bad;

To reap the harvest off I went

When I saw my birthplace levelled;

I could no longer stay

Then with my switch and reaping hook

I gave the sod a farewell look

And I run o'er to Scotland far

To reap and mow the hay

I scarcely landed in this place

When I got employment then and there

To reap a field of barley

With about a dozen more

There were men from Leeds and Lancashire

From Birmingham and London too

But my heart began to sicken when

I thought on days gone by

Now breakfast time came around at last

And every man threw down his hook

And went up to the barn for

To have his morning meal

Well I had no money; I had no grub

And to get them both from a job

But I thought it better to work and fast

Than to rob and go to jail

This thought had scarcely crossed my brow

When the farmer shouted “Pat ” aloud

“Come on up man and eat your fill

I know you're far from home

Far from your own little Shamrock shore

Come eat and drink and say no more

And stay with me for a week or two

When I'm putting in the hay ”

His only housemaid was a niece

A young Scots lass about sixteen

She was comely tall and handsome

And her eyes shone like the stars

Her father was a soldier bold

As ever did a rifle hold

But he lost his heart's blood fighting

In the 1914 War

So now as they say in Ireland

We'll gather up and have a dance

I'll tell her pleasant stories of

The green isle far away

We asked and got the old boy's consent

And to the clergy straight we went

When the sun was shining boys

Sure we were drinking tea

So it's now I'll go back to Ireland

I'd like to see the old place again

We'll sit and sing the praises of

The green isle far away

I'll bring my Scots lass home with me

I'll dandle her youngster on my knee

And once a year will Scotland see

When we go to make the hay