Fellow Pilgrims…

Fellow Pilgrims,

Since I was unable to tell MY tale, I wanted to sing you all a little song that I sometimes sing to myself in the fields.

God Speed the Plow!



The merthe of alle this londe
maketh the gode husbonde,
With erynge of his plowe.
I-blessyd be Cristes sonde,
that hath us sent in honde
merthe & ioye y-nowe.


The plowe goth mony a gate,
Bothe erly & eke late,
In wynter in the clay.
Aboute barly and whete,
That maketh men to swete,
God spede the plowe al day!

Browne, morel, & sore
Drawen the plowe ful sore,
Al in the morwenynge.
Rewarde hem therfore
With a shefe or more,
Alle in the evenynge.

Whan men bygyne to sowe,
fful wel here corne they knowe,
In the mounthe of May.
Howe ever Ianyuer blowe,
Whether hye or lowe,
God spede the plowe all way!

Whan men bygyneth to wede
The thystle fro the sede,
In somer whan they may;
God lete hem wel to spede
& longe gode lyfe to lede,
All that for plowemen pray.



Well, I have a long hard day ahead of me tomorrow
God Speed 
~The Plowman


2 thoughts on “Fellow Pilgrims…

  1. Such a pleasant little song! And what a great way for you to pass time while you work yourself hard in the fields. I must commend your cheerful attitude! Bless you and your work ethic, Plowman!


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