Full Lyrics
1. Come out, 'tis now September, the hunters' moon's begun,
And through the wheaten stubble we hear the frequent gun;
The leaves are paling yellow, and kindling into red,
And the ripe and golden barley is hanging down its head.
Refrain (after each verse):
All among the barley, who would not be blithe,
When the free and happy barley is smiling on the scythe.
2. The Spring is like a young maid, that does not know her mind;
Summer is a tyrant, the most unrighteous kind;
The Autumn is an old friend, that loves one all he can,
And brings the happy barley to glad the heart of man.
3. The wheat is like a rich man, that's sleek and well to do;
The Oats are like a pack of girls, Laughing and dancing too;
The Rye is like a miser, he's sucky, lean and small,
But the free and bearded barley is monarch of them all.
