When daffodils begin to peer -
With heigh! The doxy over the dale -
Why, then comes the sweet o' the year;
For the red blood reigns in the winter's pale

The white sheet bleaching on the hedge -
With heigh! The sweet birds, O how they sing!
Doth set my pugging tooth on edge;
For a quart of ale is a dish for a king

The lark, that tirra-lirra chants
With heigh! with heigh! The thrush and the jay
Are summer songs for me and my aunts
While we lie tumbling in the hay

But shall I go mourn for that, my dear?
The pale moon shines by night:
And when I wander here and there
I then do most go right

Jog on, jog on, the foot-path way
And merrily hent the stile-a:
A merry heart goes all the day
Your sad tires in a mile-a