SONG OF THE PLOUGH Turn down the green, O man who ploughs: Guide thou the plough with sharpened share! Turn up the brown to sapphire skies! Mankind on thee for bread relies. Bright shines the sun and God looks down On man, on beast, on hill and town Then sow the seed in mellowed earth to harrow's away and wild birds' mirth. The joyful hum of threshing time, And later drone as mills make flour, Mankind gets bread: but what man thinks It was your sweat that forged the links? But, sure, the world must bend its will In every age to ploughman's skill: Then, Oh! Hurrah, all men who toil, You're masters of the sullen soil. Turn up the brown, O man who ploughs! The waken'd earth to warming sun, And give all men their daily bread, Your work is God's for He has said He'll bless your work, your plough-team too, Reward is sure for what you do. Then, Oh! Hurrah, sons of the soil, God speed the plough, God bless your toil. Composed by the founder of the National Ploughing Association, J. J. Bergin, Athy, which apparently is in Co. Kildare.