[Lyric] All Among The Barley (The Merry Wives Of Windsor)

All among the barley
Who would not be blithe, oh so blithe?
When the ripe and bearded barley is smiling
On the side

Now 'tis come September, the hunters moon's begun
And through the wheat and stubble 'tis heard a frequent gun
The leaves are pale and yellow and turning into red
And the ripe and bearded barley is hanging down it's head

All among the barley
Who would not be blithе?
When the ripe and bеarded barley is smiling
On the side

The wheat is like a rich man, he's sleek and well to do
The oats are like a pack of girls, laughing and dancing through
The rye is like a miser, he's sucky, lean and small
And the ripe and beaded barley is monarch of them all

All among the barley
Who would not be blithe?
When the ripe and bearded barley is smiling
On the side
The spring is like a young maid who doesn't know her mind
Summer is like a tyrant, the most egracious kind
The autumn is an old friend who loves with all she can
Cause she brings the bearded barley to (?) the hearts of man

All among the barley
Who would not be blithe?
When the ripe and bearded barley is smiling
On the side

Now 'tis come September, the hunters moon's begun
And through the wheat and stubble 'tis heard a frequent gun
The leaves are pale and yellow and turning into red
And the ripe and bearded barley is hanging down it's head

All among the barley
Who would not be blithe?
When the ripe and bearded barley is
All among the barley
Who would not be blithe?
When the ripe and bearded barley is smiling
On the side