Forth we go in the grass and heather,
Leaping and scudding like forest deer,
Trample the cowslips, for we are together,
Stone the birds when they fly too near.
Pipe and play, if you're able to do it,
Leap the beck if your legs are young—
The Lord he knoweth if you will rue it
And "love my Willy" I've always sung.
Boundeth the brook as she leapeth and singeth,
Boundeth the stone that has missed your eye'
Shrilleth the bird as she homeward wingeth—
Shriller your voice if I made you cry.
Come, we will bound as the beck she boundeth!
Hey! we will sing as the bird she sings!
Come, we will sound as the bird she soundeth!
Hey! we will home for the bell rings!