When the raspberries burst from the woodbine,
And the summer lies close to the ground,
And the porch is the fit place for young boys to sleep.
And the brook in the hollow dies down.
Then with straw hats and wagons and horses,
Like young Tim and tired old Dan,
We head for the field to the creek of the wheel,
With the pitchfork that blisters your hand.
And ya have to make hay when the sun shines.
That's what all of the hill people say.
Ya just keep your load wide, keep an eye on the sky.
And make sure it's dry when you put it away.
I remember the chaff on the back of my neck,
The cool at the edge of the trees.
And you rest for a time, you talk about the weather.
You drink from the spring and get mud on your knees.
But it's back to the wagon, it's back to the mow.
Six loads in and eight more to go.
And there's biscuits and beans at the late supper meal,
And there's nothing like beans when you're workin' you know.
And ya have to make hay when the sun shines.
That's what all of the hill people say.
Ya just keep your load wide, keep an eye on the sky.
And make sure it's dry when you put it away.
'Tis the season of clover and killdeer,
'Tis the time when the earth does her best.
It's when all men are strong and the workdays are long.
And ya know when to rise and ya know when to rest.
And in the cool of the evenin' I'd perch on the load.
And let the wagon wind blow thru my hair.
And count off the stars and talk to the moon.
And sing to myself in the sweet summer air.
Hang on at the corners and duck from the branches,
And sing to myself and the sweet summer air.
And ya have to make hay when the sun shines.
That's what all of the hill people say.
Ya just keep your load wide, keep an eye on the sky.
And make sure it's dry when you put it away.
And ya have to make hay when the sun shines.
That's what all of the hill people say.
Ya just keep your load wide, keep an eye on the sky.
And make sure it's dry when you put it away.