As for my Brother in Rouen City,
  A nimble and naughty page is he,
But he will come to suffer and pity—­
  Tell him England hath taken me!

As for my little Sister waiting
  In the pleasant orchards of Normandie,
Tell her youth is the time for mating—­
  Tell her England hath taken me!

As for my Comrades in camp and highway,
  That lift their eyebrows scornfully,
Tell them their way is not my way—­
  Tell them England hath taken me!

Kings and Princes and Barons famed,
  Knights and Captains in your degree;
Hear me a little before I am blamed—­
  Seeing England hath taken me!

Howso great man’s strength be reckoned,
  There are two things he cannot flee;
Love is the first, and Death is the second—­
  And Love in England hath taken me!

A TREE SONG

(A.D. 1200)

Of all the trees that grow so fair,
  Old England to adorn,
Greater are none beneath the Sun,
  Than Oak, and Ash, and Thorn. 
Sing Oak, and Ash, and Thorn, good sirs
  (All of a Midsummer morn)! 
Surely we sing no little thing,
  In Oak, and Ash, and Thorn!

Oak of the Clay lived many a day
  Or ever AEneas began;
Ash of the Loam was a lady at home
  When Brut was an outlaw man. 
Thorn of the Down saw New Troy Town
  (From which was London born);
Witness hereby the ancientry
  Of Oak, and Ash, and Thorn!

Yew that is old in churchyard mould,
  He breedeth a mighty bow;
Alder for shoes do wise men choose,
  And beech for cups also. 
But when ye have killed, and your bowl is spilled,
  And your shoes are clean outworn,
Back ye must speed for all that ye need,
  To Oak, and Ash, and Thorn!

Ellum she hateth mankind, and waiteth
  Till every gust be laid,
To drop a limb on the head of him
  That anyway trusts her shade: 
But whether a lad be sober or sad,
  Or mellow with ale from the horn,
He will take no wrong when he lieth along
  ’Neath Oak, and Ash, and Thorn!

Oh, do not tell the Priest our plight,
  Or he would call it a sin;
But—­we have been out in the woods all night,
  A-conjuring Summer in!

And we bring you news by word of mouth—­
  Good news for cattle and corn—­
Now is the Sun come up from the South,
  With Oak, and Ash, and Thorn!

Sing Oak, and Ash, and Thorn, good sirs
  (All of a Midsummer morn)! 
England shall bide till Judgment Tide,
  By Oak, and Ash, and Thorn!

CUCKOO SONG

Spring begins in Southern England on the 14th April, on which date the Old Woman lets the Cuckoo out of her basket at Heathfield Fair—­locally known as Heffle Cuckoo Fair.

Tell it to the locked-up trees,
Cuckoo, bring your song here! 
Warrant, Act and Summons, please. 
For Spring to pass along here! 
Tell old Winter, if he doubt,
Tell him squat and square—­a! 
Old Woman! 
Old Woman! 
Old Woman’s let the Cuckoo out
At Heffle Cuckoo Fair—­a!