Classic Poem

W ith fair Ceres, Queen of Grain
The reaped fields we roam, roam, roam,
Each country peasant, nymph, and swain
Sing their harvest home, home, home;
Whilst the Queen of Plenty hallows
Growing fields as well as fallows.

Echo, double all our lays,
Make the champians sound, sound, sound
To the Queen of harvest's praise,
That sows and reaps our ground, ground, ground.
Ceres, Queen of Plenty, hallows
Growing fields as well as fallows.

Tempests hence, hence winds and hails,
Tares, cockles, rotten showers, showers, showers,
Our song shall keep time with our flails,
When Ceres sings, none lowers, lowers, lowers.
She it is whose God-hood hallows
Growing fields as well as fallows.