 | The Shepherd's Garden |  |
41
THE FESTIVAL.
When foxgloves prank the fields about,
And garth and grove are green,
And from the brook the leaping trout
To take the fly is seen;
When the milking-maid hath borne her pail
Amongst the lowing cows,
And fleecy sheep, through hill and dale
With tinkling bells do browse;
When caws the rook in the old elm-tree,
We shepherds dance and merry be.
And garth and grove are green,
And from the brook the leaping trout
To take the fly is seen;
When the milking-maid hath borne her pail
Amongst the lowing cows,
And fleecy sheep, through hill and dale
With tinkling bells do browse;
When caws the rook in the old elm-tree,
We shepherds dance and merry be.
So lusty lads and lasses gay
Make feast and jovial holiday:
The world no wealth like this can give
In which we happy rustics live:
With lover's toys,
And country joys,
We turn the hours, nor wish for more
Than health and calm contentment's store.
Your land and gold we weigh not a pin,
As we sing away care with hey down derry:
For love is a pretty thing to win:
So nymphs and swains be merry.
Make feast and jovial holiday:
The world no wealth like this can give
In which we happy rustics live:
With lover's toys,
And country joys,
We turn the hours, nor wish for more
Than health and calm contentment's store.
Your land and gold we weigh not a pin,
As we sing away care with hey down derry:
For love is a pretty thing to win:
So nymphs and swains be merry.
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