|
under the greenwood tree |
|
who loves to lie with me |
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and tune his merry note |
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unto the sweet bird's |
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come hither come hither come hither |
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here shall he see no enemy |
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but winter and rough weather |
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Who doth ambition shun |
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and love to live in the sun |
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seeking the food he eats |
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and pleased with what he gets |
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come hither come hither come hither |
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here shall he see no enemy |
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but winter and rough weather |
|
and if it do come to pass |
|
that any man turn ass |
|
leaving his wealth and ease |
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a stubborn will to please |
|
ducdame ducdame ducdame |
|
there shall he see gross fools as he |
|
and if will come to me |
