By a bank as I lay, Musing myself alone, hey ho! A birdes voice Did me rejoice, Singing before the day; And methought in her lay She said, winter was past, hey ho! Then dyry come dawn, dyry come dyry, come dyry! Come dyry, come dyry, come dawn, hey ho! The master of music, The lusty nightingale, hey ho! Full merrily And secretly She singeth in the thick; And under her breast a prick, To keep her fro sleep, hey ho! Then dyry come dawn, dyry come dyry, come dyry! Come dyry, come dyry, come dawn, hey ho! Awake therefore, young men, All ye that lovers be, hey ho! This month of May, So fresh, so gay, So fair be fields on fen; Hath flourish ilka den. Great joy it is to see, hey ho! Then dyry come dawn, dyry come dyry, come dyry! Come dyry, come dyry, come dawn, hey ho! |