Come out, come out, this sunny day,
The fields are sweet with new-mown hay,
The birds are singing loud and clear,
For summer-time once more is here;
So bring your rakes and come and play,
And toss and tumble in the hay.
The sweet wild roses softly blow,
All pink and white the roses grow;
The nodding daisies in the grass,
Lift up their heads to hear you pass
Upon this happy, sunny day,
When you come out to make the hay.
~ C. M. Lowe
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