Verse 1
Michaelmas daisies purple in the border,
Big fat leeks all standing up in order,
Whiskered barley talking to the breeze,
Low hung boughs of laden apple trees,
Chugging engines ready for the reaping,
Pounds of chutney labelled for the keeping,
Giant marrows winning every prize,
Bubbling jars of elderberry wine;
It’s harvest time, harvest time again,
Harvest time, thanks to sun and rain,
A time to take and a time to give,
A time to say that it’s a joy to live.
Verse2
Stocky-built trawlers landing with their catches,
Berries gathered, never mind the scratches,
Warm and hazy Indian summer days,
Swallows leaving for another place,
Fruits are bottled, others in the deep freeze,
Silken poppies blushing in the corn-fields,
“Don’t bring muddy boots into the hall!”,
Golden onions hanging on a wall;
It’s harvest time, harvest time again,
Harvest time, thanks to sun and rain,
A time to take and a time to give,
A time to say that it’s a joy to live
At harvest time.
Mellow, fruitful harvest time.