Ramble In The New Mown Hays |
In spring we sow the harvest mow, And that is how the seasons round they go, But of all the seasons chose I may, It's to ramble in the new mown hay. Chorus: For I like to rise when the sun she rises, Early in the morning, I like to hear the small birds singing, Merrily upon the leylan, And hurrah for the life of a country boy, And to ramble in the new mown hay.
2. In winter when the skies are grey, |