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THE HAYMAKING SONG
The yearly tradition of making hay on our farm.

Lyrics

The time of year has come around again, the fields are painted gold.

Standing where your father stood, not twenty years ago,

This year and many more we'll bring the harvest home.

Generations gather, children and dogs come along,

Sweat drips down my fathers brow, he'll grumble he will moan.

This year and many more we'll bring the harvest home.

For centuries you've grown, cut and dried, to feed and to survive,

Who will be your legacy and bring the harvest home.

Who will ride the Massey, to turn and tend the hay,

It's worked these fields too many times but still avoids the grave,

This year and many more we'll bring the harvest home.

If we go much higher we'll tangle in the wires,

Seven stories up on deck, it's a giant's seat of gold,

This year and many more we'll bring the harvest home.

For centuries you've grown, cut and dried, to feed and to survive,

Who will be your legacy and bring the harvest home,

Who will be your legacy and bring the harvest home,

And bring the harvest home.

The rising of the moon, the day has gone too soon.

Our work is done until it all rolls around again,

This year and many more we'll bring the harvest home.

For centuries you've grown, cut and dried, to feed and to survive,

Who will be your legacy and bring the harvest home,

And bring the harvest home.

The Haymaking Song - Kate Griffin
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Haymaking on Wayside Farm

This track is a lot closer to home, inspired by the annual event of making hay on my family's farm. In the song I wanted to capture what can't be seen in photographs or hasn't been recorded in writing - the little details like the memories of stacking the bales too high, or a passing comment that the Massy Ferguson might explode after all it's years of work. For more about how the song was conceived, visit my blog.