: Popular Rhymes And Nursery Tales

Here's a health unto our maister,

The founder of the feast,

And I hope to God wi' all my heart,

His soul in heaven mid rest.

That everything mid prosper

That ever he tiak in hand,

Vor we be all his sarvants,

And all at his command.

These verses were sometimes said in proposing the health of the farmer

at a harvest-home supper. Another version of them is given in Hone's

Table Book, ii. 334. When they have had a fortunate harvest, and the

produce has been carried home without an accident, the following lines

are sang at the harvest-home:

Harvest home, harvest home,

Ne'er a load's been overthrown.