When daffodils begin to peer,
With hey! The doxy over the dale ,
Why, then comes in the sweet o’ the year;
For the red blood reigns in the winter’s pale.
The white sheet bleaching on the hedge,
With hey! the sweet birds, O, how they sing!
Doth set my pugging tooth on edge;
For a quart of ale is a dish for a king.
The lark, that tirra-lirra chants,
With hey! with hey! the thrush and the jay,
Are summer songs for me and for my aunts,
While we lie tumbling in the hay.
