How pleasant in winter to sit by the hob
Listening to the barks and the howls of a dog
Or in summer to wander the wide valleys
through
And to pluck the wild flowers in the May morning
dew
Summer is coming, oh summer is near
With the leaves on the trees and the skies blue
and clear
And the birds they are singing their fond notes
so true
And the flowers they are springin' in the May
morning dew
The house I was reared in is but a stone on a
stone
And all around the garden the weeds they have
grown
And all the kind neighbours that ever I knew
Like the red rose they've withered in the May
morning dew
God be with the old folks, who are now dead and
gone
And likewise my brothers: young Dennis and
John
As they tripped through the heather the wild hare
to pursue
As their joys they were mingled in the May
morning dew
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