And then the harvest holidays—only six five four three two one more day, and then we break up […] [The last day] was an uncontrollable day when we couldn’t settle and so we sang harvest songs and did quite a lot of country dancing, the day ending with a scramble for sweets which were supplied by the shop-keeper. 

[…]

After the teachers had wished us a happy holiday, we replying “Thankye Miss and the same to you”. We gave three cheers said “Goodbye” and off we tripped up the lane, when well out of earshot we chanted, “No more lessons, no more books, no more teachers ugly looks”. It was not true because we loved our teachers, but other children had sung it before us and so the tradition must be maintained. 

[…]

Children are always hungry, and we were no exception, and as the plums and apples ripened we looked longingly at the trees and as we were not allowed to take the fruit we had to hope for a high wind. One year we made up a little song which stood us in great stead.

“Please Mister Wind, blow an apple down

Just blow an apple down, blow an apple down”.

As we chanted away so we looked and hoped for miracles and sometimes one would fall or we would discover a few overlooked before in the long grass.