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Spring, the sweet Spring, is the year's pleasant king;
\nThen blooms each thing, then maids dance in a ring,
\nCold doth not sting, the pretty birds do sing,
\n Cuckoo, jug-jug, pu-we, to-witta-woo!
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\nThe palm and may make country houses gay,
\nLambs frisk and play, the shepherds pipe all day,
\nAnd we hear aye birds tune this merry lay,
\n Cuckoo, jug-jug, pu-we, to-witta-woo.
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\nThe fields breathe sweet, the daisies kiss our feet,
\nYoung lovers meet, old wives a-sunning sit,
\nIn every street these tunes our ears do greet,
\n Cuckoo, jug-jug, pu-we, to-witta-woo!
\n Spring! the sweet Spring!
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