Classic Poem

Here we come a-haying,
A-haying, a-haying,
Here we come a-haying,
Among the leaves so green.

Up and down the mower goes
All the long field over,
Cutting down the long green grass,
And the purple clover.

Toss the hay and turn it,
Laid in rows so neatly,
Summer sun a-shining down,
Makes it smell so sweetly.

Rake it into tidy piles
Now the farmer's ready,
Load it on the old hay cart,
Drawn by faithful Neddy.

Down the lane the last load goes,
Hear the swallows calling.
Now at last our work is done,
Night is softly falling.