SPRING, the sweet Spring, is the year's pleasant king ; Then blooms each thing, then maids dance in a ring, Cold doth not sting, the pretty birds do sing, Cuckoo, jug, jug, pu-we, to-witta-woo ! The palm and May make country houses gay, Lambs frisk and play, the shepherds pipe all day, And we hear aye birds tune this merry lay, Cuckoo, jug, jug, pu-we, to-witta-woo ! The fields breathe sweet, the daisies kiss our feet, Young lovers meet, old wives a sunning sit In every street, these tunes our ears do greet, Cuckoo, jug, jug, pu-we, to-witta-woo ! Spring, the sweet spring! |
Schelling, Felix E., Ed. A Book of Elizabethan Lyrics.
Boston: Ginn and Company, 1895. 52.
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