The fields of the golden corn
Are ripe and fully ready for you ;
Go forth in the early morn.
Press on, press on, to gather the sheaves,
The work is for you alone ;
Then haste away, no time for delay ;
Go, gather the harvest home.
2 The gleaners are there before you,
The garners are open wide ;
No time to lose, so hasten away,
All day in the field abide.
3 Toil on till the day is over,
Too soon will the darkness come ;
The sun is sinking now in the west ;
Then gather the harvest home.