Crafty miller, or, The mistaken batchelor (1802)
“ Our harvest is come, come lads to your reaping, Your sickles are keen, come lads to your reaping, Come lasses to glean, plough and sow. The sun peeps so broad, and the twylight is flown, The dawn of the morning throws off the grey gown, Come lads to your labour, 'tis welcome the day, Your hearty meal's meat shall your labour repay. ”
