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III.

[Now is the month of Maying]

Now is the month of Maying,
When merry lads are playing. Fa la la.
Each with his bonny lasse,
vpon the greeny grasse, Fa la la.
The spring clad all in gladnesse,
Doth laugh at winters sadnesse. Fa la la.
And to the Bagpips sound,
The Nimphs tread out their ground. Fa la la.
Fye then why sit wee musing,
Youths sweet delight refusing. Fa la la.
Say daintie Nimphs and speake,
Shall wee play barly breake. Fa la la la.