Of all the trees that grow so fair Old England to adorn Greater is none beneath the sun Than Oak, and Ash, and Thorn Sing Oak, and Ash, and Thorn, good sirs (All of a Midsummer morn!) Surely we sing of no little thing In Oak, and Ash, and Thorn! Oak of the Clay lived many a day Or ever Aeneas began Ash of the Loam was a Lady at home When Brut was an outlaw man Thorn of the Down saw New Troy Town (From which was London born) Witness hereby the ancientry Of Oak, and Ash, and Thorn! Yew that is old in churchyard-mould He breedeth a mighty bow Alder for shoes do wise men choose And beech for cups also But when ye have killed, and your bowl is spilled And your shoes are clean outworn Back ye must speed for all that ye need To Oak, and Ash, and Thorn! Ellum she hateth mankind, and waiteth Till every gust be laid To drop a limb on the head of him That any way trusts her shade But whether a lad be sober or sad Or mellow with wine from the horn He will take no wrong when he lieth along 'Neath Oak, and Ash, and Thorn! Oh, do not tell the priest our plight Or he would call it a sin But--we have been out in the woods all night A-conjuring Summer in! And we bring you good news by word of mouth -- Good news for cattle and corn -- Now is the Sun come up from the south With Oak, and Ash, and Thorn! Sing Oak, and Ash, and Thorn, good sirs (All of a Midsummer morn)! England shall bide till Judgement Tide By Oak, and Ash, and Thorn!