The sun does arise
And make happy the skies
The merry bells ring
To welcome the spring
The skylark and the thrush
Birds of the bush
Sing louder around
To the bells cheerful sound
While our sports shall be seen
On the echoing green
Old john with white hair
Does laugh away care
Sitting under the oak
Among the old folk
They laugh at our play
And soon they all say
Such, such were the joys
When all, girls and boys
In our youth-time were seen
On the echoing green
In our youth-time were seen
On the echoing green
Till the little ones weary
No more can be merry
The sun does descend
Sports have an end
Round the laps of their mother
Many sisters and brothers
Like birds in their nest
Ready for rest
And sport no more seen
On the darkening green
Sports no more seen
On the darkening green