The birds of the bush,
Sing louder around,
To the bells' cheerful sound.
While our sports shall be seen
. Old John, with white hair
Does laugh away care,
Sitting under the oak,
Among the old folk,
And soon they all say.
'Such, such were the joys.
When we all girls & boys,
In our youth-time were seen,
Till the little ones weary
No more can be merry
The sun does descend,
And our sports have an end:
Many sisters and brother zs,
Like birds in their nest,
Are ready for rest;
And sport no more seen,
On the darkening Green.