Pokingbrook Harvest Song

©1987 Jean Vala McAvoy

Score image

Let the sun shine one more day
As we bend our backs and we bind the hay
As we gather in the full leaf corn
When the days turn warm from a frosty morn.

Pick and pile and cut and truss
What the earth has borne for us
Load it up and haste away
For light grows shorter day by day


Place the yield in silo and barn
Safe from the snow and rain and harm
Then you reap a harvest rare
Of deep content and sleep secure


Autumn's harvest rich as gold
Stored as winter's shield from cold
For our children, for our beasts
We now prepare a harvest feast


Bless the earth and rain and sun
That we need to carry on
Bless the seasons which have turned
And give to us what we have earned.

Chorus (twice)

Apple Pressing Song

©1987 Jean Vala McAvoy

Score image

Oh the days are warm, the nights are crisp
Turn, turn the apple press;
Of all the year this time is best
And oh, how fine are the apples!

The lakes are misty in the morn...
The ghost of summer lingers on...

The geese are flying overhead...
They call to us when summer's dead...

But never mind that summer's lost...
Harvest comes with autumn's frost...

The trees are bending with their weight...
We'll pick them clean to make them straight...

And when we've picked and chopped and squeezed...
We'll share our nectar with the bees...

And when bees and all have drunk their fill...
We'll feel the warmth of summer still...

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