The Harvest Home Suppers are now almost a thing of the past. I went to one about eight years ago and suppose it will be the last. It is held when the last load of corn is taken home. This load used to be decorated with boughs and flowers and the youngest boy employed used to ride on it singing:—
Harvest Home! Harvest Home;
Two plum puddings are better than one,
We've plowed, we've sowed,
We've reaped, we've mowed,
We've got our harvest home.
They also used to shout Largess! Largess! but seldom got anything given them. It was merely an old custom.
In the evening the supper was held, and after supper songs were sung. The oldest labourer used to propose the health of the Master and Mistress and all would sing:—
Harvest Home.
Here's a health unto our Master, the giver of the feast,
Not only to our Master, but to our Mistress;
We wish all things may prosper whate'er he take in hand,
For we are all his servants, and all at his command.
Drink, boys drink, and see you do not spill,
For if you do you shall drink two, it is our Master's will.
I've been to France, I've been to Dover,
I've been to Harvest Home all the world over, over, and over,
Drink up your liquor and turn the bowl over.
Another:—
Here's health unto our Master the founder of the feast,
God bless his endeavours and give him increase,
And send him good crops that we may meet another year,
Here's our Master's good health boys come drink off your beer.
Some of the old songs used to be regularly sung. "The Poacher" was always a great favourite and the chorus, "For its my delight on a starry night" used to be given with great force and feeling. I wish I could remember the old songs which are now forgotten.
The day on which Harvest was finished, and the corn safely "Hovelled" used to be called "Wheat Hovel Day."