Hoe Your Row

We must not dream of harvests and neglect the toil that produces them.

De fiel’s ’ll soon be hummin’
    Roun’ de country high en low;
  De harves’ is a-comin’:
    Hoe yo’ row!
    Hoe yo’ row!

No time now fer de sleeper;
    It’s “Git up now, en go!”
  It’s de sower makes de reaper;
    Hoe yo’ row!
    Hoe yo’ row!

It’s sweet de birds is singin’
    De songs you lovin’ so;
  But de harves’ bells is ringin’;
    Hoe yo’ row!
    Hoe yo’ row!

Frank L. Stanton.

From “The Atlanta Constitution.”