I'll probably be singing it tomorrow night at Fox & Hounds Weekend of Song.

Polly


SONS OF THE LAND
(Mick Ryan)

The wind blows down through the valley
The sun rises up from the hill
In the soft morning sun there is work to be done
For the land it will never lie still
Each man to his task must be going
The tools of his work in his hand
Whether reaping or ploughing or sowing
We sing arise you sons of the land

Chorus
Arise, arise, shoulder to shoulder we'll stand
Be proud of the plough
And the sweat of your brow
Arise you sons of the land

The ploughman must walk the long furrow
Keeping up with the old painful plough
With cold weary feet many miles he'll complete
Through an acre as wet as his brow
Through autumn and winter he trudges
Preparing the ground for the grain
He endures the first part with a brave patient heart
Through the frost and the cold winter rain

Chorus

When spring planting's done there is hoeing
Then haymaking comes by and by
The labourer spends long hot days without end
With the sun burning down from the sky
When the hay has been cut, raked and carted
The rich stand secure in the sun
There's no time to sit down for the harvest comes round
And the labour is barely begun

Chorus

With the labour of every season
With ploughing and sowing the soil
With hedging and ditching, with reaping and pitching
We well earn the bread for our toil
The ploughman, the sower, the reaper
Provide us with bread by their hand
Here's a health to the labour of every good neighbour
Arise you sons of the land.

Chorus x 2
Arise you sons of the land, Arise you sons of the land.


(c) Mick Ryan