Now is the month of maying,
When merry lads are playing,
Fa la la la la la la,
Fa la la la la la la.
Now is the month of maying,
When merry lads are playing,
Fa la la la la la la,
Fa la la la la la la.
Each with his bonny lass,
Upon the greeny grass,
Fa la la la la la la.
Each with his bonny lass,
Upon the greeny grass,
Fa la la la la la la.
The Spring, clad all in gladness,
Doth laugh at Winter's sadness,
Fa la la la la la la,
Fa la la la la la la.
The Spring, clad all in gladness,
Doth laugh at Winter's sadness,
Fa la la la la la la,
Fa la la la la la la.
And to the bagpipe's sound,
The nymphs tread out their ground,
Fa la la la la la la.
And to the bagpipe's sound,
The nymphs tread out their ground,
Fa la la la la la la.
Fie then! why sit we musing,
Youth's sweet delight refusing?
Fa la la la la la la,
Fa la la la la la la.
Fie then! why sit we musing,
Youth's sweet delight refusing?
Fa la la la la la la,
Fa la la la la la la.
Say, dainty nymphs, and speak,
Shall we play at barley-break?
Fa la la la la la la.
Say, dainty nymphs, and speak,
Shall we play at barley-break?
Fa la la la la la la.