Full Lyrics
Come, my friends, let us work,
And all hands to the fork,
While the sun shines, our haycocks to make;
So fine is the day
And so fragrant the hay,
That the meadow’s as blithe as the wake.
Our voices let’s raise in Phoebus’s praise,
Inspir’d by so glorious a theme,
Our musical words shall be join’d by the birds,
And we’ll dance to the tune of the stream.
