On nights when mist rolls through the fields, He rises from the ancient sheaf. In shadows wakes, with golden cup, The God o' Barley, risin' up. So lush the woods, the hills so green, The finest fields have e'er been. A whisper borne on evening's wings, Of ancient bonds, the spirit sings. We raise our song an' off'r prayer, Beneath the sky so wide and fair. God o' Barley – Lord o' Grain, Bless the harvest, ease the pain. God o' Barley – holy might, Watch the brew both day an' night. He wanders o'er the silent slopes To bless the soil and future crops. His brow is bound in harvest-thread, When holy ground is softly tread. The heavy ears sway ripe and sweet In golden fields beneath his feet. God o' Barley – Lord o' Grain, Bless the harvest, ease the pain. God o' Barley – holy might, Watch the brew both day an' night. He knows the soil, the early seed. He knows each grain, each mouth to feed. He guides the whiskey, drop by drop, From barrel unto hearth an' cup. This bounteous year shall fill the chest, If by his hand the harvest's blessed. Set the casks an' let 'em flow, And thank the One who doth bestow. God o' Barley – Lord o' Grain, Bless the harvest, ease the pain. God o' Barley – holy might, Watch the brew both day an' night. In nights when mists hang thick and deep, When mystic sounds thro' valleys creep, When ev'ry path is lost to sight: His blessing finds us on such nights. Oh Spirit-King — the heart of all, Ye hear the weary trav'ler's call. In ev'ry drop that warms the soul, Your sacred blessing makes us whole. Oh Spirit-King – the heart of all, Ye hear the weary trav'ler's call. In ev'ry drop that warms the soul, Your sacred blessing makes us whole.
