August brings the harvest, The reapers now advance, Against their shining sickles The field stands little chance. Well done! exclaims the farmer. This day is all men's friend. We'll drink and feast in plenty When we the harvest end. 9 By middle of September, The rake is laid aside. The horses wear the breeching Rich dressing to provide, All things to do in season, Me-thinks is just and right. Now summer season's over The frosts begin at night. 10 October leads in winter. The leaves begin to fall. The trees will soon be naked No flowers left at all. The frosts will bite them sharply The Elm alone is green. In orchard piles of apples red For cyder press are seen. 11 The eleventh month, November, The nights are cold and long, By day we're felling timber, And spend the night in song. In cozy chimney corner We take our toast and ale, And kiss and tease the maidens, Or tell a merry tale. 12 Then comes dark December, The last of months in turn. With holly, box, and laurel, We house and Church adorn. So now, to end my story, I wish you all good cheer. A merry, happy Christmas, A prosperous New Year. No. 20 THE CHIMNEY SWEEP C.J.S. [Music] 1 Oh! sweep chimney, sweep! You maidens shake off sleep If you my cry can follow. I climb the chimney top, Without ladder without rope; Aye and there! aye and there! aye and there you shall hear me halloo! 2 Arise! maids, arise! Unseal and rub your eyes. Arise and do your duty. I summon yet again And do not me disdain, That my call--that my call--that my calling's poor and sooty. 3 Behold! here I stand! With brush and scrape in hand. As a soldier that stands on his sentry. I work for the better sort, And well they pay me for't. O I work, O I work, O I work for the best of gentry. 4 Oh! sweep chimney, sweep! The hours onward creep. As the lark I am alert, I Clear away, and take The smut that others make. O I clean, O I clean, O I clean what others dirty. No. 21 THE SAUCY SAILOR (For two Voices) C.J.S. [Music] 1 _He_: "Come my fairest, come my dearest Love with me. Come and you shall wed a sailor From the sea." _She_: Faith I want none of your sailors, I must say. So begone you saucy creature. So begone from me, I pray. 2 "You are ragged, you are dirty, Smell of tar. Get you gone to foreign countries, Hence afar." _He_: "If I'm ragged, if I'm dirty, Of tar I smell, Yet there's silver in my pockets, And of gold, a store as well." 3