I'll wager a hat full of guineas Against all the songs you can sing, That some day you'll love, And the next day you'll lose, And winter will turn into spring.
And the snow falls, the wind calls, The year turns round again. And like Barleycorn who rose from the grave, A new year will rise up again.
And there will come a time of great plenty, A time of good harvest and sun. Till then put your trust in tomorrow, my friend, For yesterday's over and done.
Ploughed, sown, reaped, and mown: The year turns round again. And like Barleycorn who rose from the grave A new year will rise up again.
Phoebe arise, a gleam in her eyes, And the year turns round again. And like Barleycorn who rose from the grave, A new year will rise up again.