Nick Keir
Turn, turn, the seasons turn
The children sport and play
But the ploughman's first to feel the wind
And the sun at the break of day.
Just as the sun is rising so we must rise and plough
And tend and feed the plough-team that stands so still and proud
Their backs are strong as iron but their hearts are gentle and kind
And yoke them to the ploughshare and leave the farm behind.
His hands are sore and calloused, he keeps them straight in line
His eye is sure and steady, his team well-matched and fine
The earth is hard and frosty as a mist comes from the sea
The open sky above him, the gulls for company.
And when the land lies ready we'll scatter and we'll sow
And with God's help and sunlight the seeds shall surely grow
And when the harvest's ended we'll gather in the grain
A bushel for the springtime to sow the fields again.
And now the yoking's over, the long day's work is done
The horses are but shadows in the waning of the sun
The ploughman needs his sleep now for his back is weary and sore
Early he must rise again and to ploughing come once more.