Oh, come to the Fair,
Whoever you are, And bring something with you, whatever be best. Come one, come all, And roll on the ball, From the North and South, from the East to the West. Bring your horses and kine, Your sheep and your swine, Your fowls are blood, and your Shanghais to boot; And whatever you do, Bring your fast trotters, too, The crowded track’s chances to take and dispute. Bring fruits and wine, Bring ores from the mine --- The wealth the world yields both above and below; Bring the peach, blushing meek, Like the rose on the cheek, Of the fair ones who’ll come and not think of a beau! Bring your needle-work, girls, Right along with your curls; Your basques, and your bonnets, your sleeves & your capes; And bring, curiously wrought, And with mystery fraught, Those queer looking garments of various shapes. Let the matrons, too, come, (Though they seldom leave home,) With their counterpanes fine, and their bedquilts so rare; With work of all kinds, Which their careful hands finds So much pleasure in doing -- let them come to the Fair. Ye mechanics well skilled, Let your place be well filled, With all manner of work, in neat order displayed; Let the grounds, too, attest, That you’ve all done your best; And the country will be proud of the progress you’ve made. Oh! ye farmers attend! Of all classes the friend: For if your work should fail, we would “fare” not at all, Bring the fruits of your toil, The rich cream of the soil, In its varied forms to the Farmer's own hall. So come to the Fair, There'll be good music there, And hospitality's welcome will greet you, dare say, The latch string hangs out, And our people no doubt, Will be happy to see you on each coming day. |