Grow the wheat, grow the corn.
Grow the barley. Sound the horn.
The reapers are ready, the wheat is tall.
Is there enough grain for all?

In the field, hour by hour.
Cut down the wheat, expression sour.
Reap and reap, whack and whack.
Scythe in hand, aching back.

Wheat for milady, wheat for the lord.
Sift and grind, do the chores.
A field of wheat is profitable.
The reapers work free after all!