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Thomas Phillips Thompson

"Labor's Harvest Home" (karaoke)

"Labor's Harvest Home" (sheet music)


Rouse the sleepers through the land,

Harvest time is now at hand,

Fields are white with ripened grain,

And plenty smiles on hill and plain.

 

When the reaping time shall come

And labor shout the harvest home,

When the reaping time shall come

And labor shout the harvest home.

 

Those whose toil has given birth

To the products of the earth

Claim the right the fruit to keep,

Nor where they sowed let others reap.

 

When the reaping time shall come

And labor shout the harvest home,

When the reaping time shall come

And labor shout the harvest home.

 

Ye who bar the reapers' way,

Is it sword or sickle, say?

Ere the famished throng can pass

Must they mow you down like grass?

 

When the reaping time shall come

And labor shout the harvest home,

When the reaping time shall come

And labor shout the harvest home.

 

Down with the idler, robber, knave!

Freedom for the toiling slave!

Nevermore shall stealth or sloth

Enjoy the field's luxuriant growth.

 

When the reaping time shall come

And labor shout the harvest home,

When the reaping time shall come

And labor shout the harvest home.

 

Fruit of bitter, toilsome years,

Sown in struggle, pain, and tears,

We shall garner when the world

Sees from its place oppression hurled.

 

When the reaping time shall come

And labor shout the harvest home,

When the reaping time shall come

And labor shout the harvest home.


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