HERE’S to him that grows it, <br /> Drink, lads, drink! <br />That lays it in and mows it, <br /> Clink, jugs, clink! <br />To him that mows and makes it, <br />That scatters it and shakes it, <br />That turns, and teds, and rakes it, <br /> Clink, jugs, clink! <br /> <br />Now here ’s to him that stacks it, <br /> Drink, lads, drink! <br />That thrashes and that tacks it, <br /> Clink, jugs, clink! <br />That cuts it out for eating, <br />When March-dropp’d lambs are bleating, <br />And the slate-blue clouds are sleeting, <br /> Drink, lads, drink! <br /> <br />And here ’s to thane and yeoman, <br /> Drink, lads, drink! <br />To horseman and to bowman, <br /> Clink, jugs, clink! <br />To lofty and to low man, <br />Who bears a grudge to no man, <br />But flinches from no foeman, <br /> Drink, lads, drink!<br /><br />Alfred Austin<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-haymakers-song/
