"The Farmer and the Seasons" (1877)
Words by John Westfall, Esq.
Music by George Frederick Root, 1820-1895

[Hail to the Farmer]
Hail to the sturdy farmer!
Hail to the son of toil!
King of the scythe and ploughshare,
And monarch of the soil;

Come to his cheery cottage,
Partake of his hearty fare,
And see how he lives and labors
From Spring to the closing year.

[SPRING]
The ice on the hills is breaking,
The birds are on the wing;
All nature is loud proclaiming
The coming of the spring.

The breezes from the mountains
Bring color to the cheeks,
Come where the farmer hastens,
Hark, while the farmer speaks.

"Now yoke me the stoutest oxen,
Now bring me the newest plough,--
The fields which so long have slumbered
Are ready for culture now."

[SUMMER]
The Spring is gone and the Summer
Brings with it brighter hours,
The time of the beautiful sunsets,
The time of birds and flowers,
The time of birds and flowers.

"We must make hay while the sun shines,"
'Tis shining bright today,
Come, let us be up and be doing,
This is no time for play,
This is no time for play.

[AUTUMN]
Hail to the, beautiful Autumn,
Thou season of painted leaves!
Smiling beneath all thy burden
Of fruit and of golden sheaves.

Gather, thou tireless farmer,
Thy bushels of ripened grain,
The summer has lent its sunshine,
And God has giv'n the rain.

[WINTER]
One moment--the Indian Summer--and
winter comes on, And
winter comes sweeping
on (comes sweeping on...)
...come sweeping on, comes sweeping on,
Winter comes sweeping on,
winter comes sweeping on,
comes sweeping on,
comes sweeping on...n...m

[Soprano Solo]
The earth is quietly sleeping
Beneath her mantle of snow;
The winds, like restless spirits,
Are wand'ring to and fro;
Sadder and sadder the north blast
Moans at the bolted door.
O Father, we ask thy blessing!
Shelter the houseless poor,
And richly give to the farmer
Who feels them from his store.

[FULL CHORUS]
A happy man is the farmer,
An honest man and true,
Thank him for all his kindness,
And bid him a kind adieu.

Wish him the richest blessings,
Sing him the sweetest song;
THe farmer's home be happy,
The farmer's life be long.