Now is come September ...

Here's a seasonal song ...

All Among the Barley.












Now is come September, the hunter’s moon begun,
And through the wheaten stubble is heard the frequent gun.
The leaves are paling yellow, and kindling into red,
And the ripe and bearded barley is hanging down its head.

All among the barley, who would not be blithe,
While the ripe and bearded barley is smiling on the scythe?

The spring is like a young maid who does not know her mind.
The summer is a tyrant of most ungracious kind.
The autumn is an old friend, she gives one all she can,
And she brings the bearded barley to glad the heart of man.

All among the barley, who would not be blithe,
While the ripe and bearded barley is smiling on the scythe?

The wheat is like a rich man; it’s sleek and well to do.
The oats are like a pack of girls, laughing and dancing too.
The rye is like the miser; it’s sulky, lean and small,
But the ripe and bearded barley is monarch of them all.

All among the barley, who would not be blithe,
While the ripe and bearded barley is smiling on the scythe?

(Repeat v.1, then, all sing, chorus ad inf ... )

There are a few renditions on youtube.
Don't bother; we'll do it better!