| Now is the month of maying, when merry lads are playing
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| Fa la la la la la la la la, fa la la la la la la
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| Each with his bonnie lass, a-dancing on the grass
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| Fa la la la la la la la la, fa la la la la la la
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| The Spring, clad all in gladness, doth laugh at Winter’s sadness
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| Fa la la la la la la la la, fa la la la la la la
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| And to the bagpipe’s sound, The nymphs tread out the ground
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| Fa la la la la la la la la, fa la la la la la la
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| Fie, then, why sit we musing, youth’s sweet delight refusing?
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| Fa la la la la la la la la, fa la la la la la la
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| Say, dainty nymph, and speak, shall we play barley break?
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| Fa la la la la la la la la, fa la la la la la la |