Dales folk go “haytiming”. It is a verb, it is something to be done. Meadow grass was cut by scythe, scattered, turned, dried and taken by cart to be passed up through the forking hole and stacked to the roof of the stone field barns that distinguish Dales countryside.
lyrics
Chorus: We’re up into the hay, up into the hay
(repeat the last line of each verse)
There’s red on the horizon it is a brand new day
Just as the sun comes to the sky we’re up into the hay
The larks in mighty chorus call dawning of the day
So come you lads and lassies all, we’re up into the hay.
With our breakfast still before us and sleep still in our eye
We’re up into the meadow with our whetstone and our scythe
We spent the night a peening and the edge is mighty keen
Not in the whole of England can a sharper scythe be seen
The squire’s bagging pheasant with a favoured few
If we flush out a rabbit then we’ll have it in a stew
The sun begins to warm our backs and drives off all the dew
We spread out all the windrows just to let the air blow through
The landlord’s at his table with his agent drinking ale
While we labour in the sun a scything down his dale
We’ll rake the grass up into rows when the sun is at its height
And do it twice or more before the darkness of the night
The dew begins a falling, sweat wet upon our backs
Come the dusk we’ll have the hay all gathered on to racks
If the farmer wants his grass cut and his fields all nice and trim
He’ll have to bring us pies and ale before the sun goes in
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