The sun does arise And make happy the skies The merry bells ring To welcome the spring The skylark and the thrush Birds of the bush Sing louder around To the bells cheerful sound While our sports shall be seen On the echoing green Old John with white hair Does laugh away care Sitting under the oak Among the old folk They laugh at our play And soon they all say Such, such were the joys When all, girls and boys In our youth-time were seen On the echoing green In our youth-time were seen On the echoing green Till the little ones weary No more can be merry The sun does descend Sports have an end Round the laps of their mother Many sisters and brothers Like birds in their nest Ready for rest And sport no more seen On the darkening green Sports no more seen On the darkening green