“Hey, laddie, hark to the merry, merry lark! 
How high he singeth clear: 
’Oh, a morn in spring is the sweetest thing
That cometh in all the year! 
Oh, a morn in spring is the sweetest thing
That cometh in all the year!’

“Ring, ting! it is the merry springtime;
How full of heart a body feels! 
Sing hey, trolly-lolly! oh, to live is to be jolly,
When springtime cometh with the summer at her heels!

“God save us all, my jolly gentlemen,
We’ll merry be to-day;
For the cuckoo sings till the greenwood rings,
And it is the month of May! 
For the cuckoo sings till the greenwood rings,
And it is the month of May!”

Then the men at the table all waved their pewter pots, and thumped upon the board, roaring, “Hey, trolly-lolly! oh, to live is to be jolly!” until the rafters rang.

[Illustration: 

1.  Hey! lad-die, hark, to the mer-ry, mer-ry lark, How high he sing-eth clear.  O a morn in Spring is the sweeter thing That cometh in all the year; O a morn in Spring is the sweet-est thing That com-eth in all the year!

REFRAIN.  Piano.

Ring!  Ting!  It is the mer-ry Spring-time.  How full of heart a bod-y feels!  Sing hey trol-ly lol-ly!  O to live is to be jol-ly, When Spring-time cometh with the Summer at her heels!

2.  God save us all, my jol-ly gen-tle-men!  We’ll mer-ry be to-day; For the cuc-koo sings till the greenwood rings, And it is the month of May; For the cuc-koo sings till the greenwood rings, And it is the month of May!

Repeat Refrain after 2d Stanza.]

“What, lad!” cried good Dame Davenant, “come, stay with me all year and sing, thou and this little maid o’ thine.  ’Twill cost thee neither cash nor care.  Why, thou’ldst fill the house with such a throng as it hath never seen!” And in the morning she would not take a penny for their lodging nor their keep.  “Nay, nay,” said she; “they ha’ brought good custom to the house, and left me a brave little tale to tell for many a good long year.  We inns-folk be not common penny-grabbers; marry, no!” and, furthermore, she made interest with a carrier to give them a lift to Woodstock on their way.

When they came to Woodstock the carrier set them down by the gates of a park built round by a high stone wall over which they could not see, and with his wain went in at the gate, leaving them to journey on together through a little rain-shower.

The land grew flatter than before.  There were few trees upon the hills, and scarcely any springs at which to drink, but much tender grass, with countless sheep nibbling everywhere.  The shower was soon blown away; the sun came out; and a pleasant wind sprang up out of the south.  Here and there beside some cottage wall the lilacs bloomed, and the later orchard-trees were apple-pink and cherry-white with May.

They came to a puddle in the road where there was a dance of butterflies.  Cicely clapped her hands with glee.  A goldfinch dipped across the path like a little yellow streak of laughter in the sun.  “Oh, Nick, what is it?” she cried.