For the shepherd lads on every side 'ill come from far

away,

And I'm to be Queen o' the May, mother, I'm to be Queen o' the May.

The honeysuckle round the porch has wov'n its wavy bowers,

And by the meadow-trenches blow the faint sweet cuckoo-flowers;

And the wild marsh-marigold shines like fire in swamps and hollows gray,

And I'm to be Queen o' the May, mother, I'm to be Queen o' the May.

The night-winds come and go, mother, upon the meadow-grass,

And the happy stars above them seem to brighten as they pass;

There will not be a drop of rain the whole of the livelong day,

And I'm to be Queen o' the May, mother, I'm to be Queen o' the May.

All the valley, mother, 'ill be fresh and green and still, And the cowslip and the crowfoot are over all the hill, And the rivulet in the flowery dale 'ill merrily glance and play,

For I'm to be Queen o' the May, mother, I'm to be Queen o' the May.

So you must wake and call me early, call me early, mother dear,

To-morrow 'ill be the happiest time of all the glad New-year :

To-morrow 'ill be of all the year the maddest merriest

day,

For I'm to be Queen o' the May, mother, I'm to be Queen o' the May.

NEW-YEAR'S EVE.

If you're waking call me early, call me early, mother

dear,

For I would see the sun rise upon the glad New-year. It is the last New-year that I shall ever see,

Then you may lay me low i' the mould and think no more of me.

To-night I saw the sun set: he set and left behind The good old year, the dear old time, and all my peace of mind;

And the New-year's coming up, mother, but I shall

never see

The blossom on the blackthorn, the leaf upon the tree.

Last May we made a crown of flowers: we had a merry day;

Beneath the hawthorn on the green they made me Queen of May;

And we danced about the may-pole and in the hazel

copse,

Till Charles's Wain came out above the tall white

chimney-tops.

There's not a flower on all the hills: the frost is on

the pane:

I only wish to live till the snowdrops come again:

I wish the snow would melt and the sun come out on

high:

I long to see a flower so before the day I die.

The building rook 'ill caw from the windy tall elm-tree,
And the tufted plover pipe along the fallow lea,
And the swallow 'ill come back again with summer o'er
the wave,

But I shall lie alone, mother, within the mouldering grave.

Upon the chancel-casement, and upon that grave of

mine,

In the early early morning the summer sun 'ill shine, Before the red cock crows from the farm upon the hill, When you are warm-asleep, mother, and all the world is still.

When the flowers come again, mother, beneath the waning light

You'll never see me more in the long gray fields at night; When from the dry dark wold the summer airs blow

cool

On the oat-grass and the sword-grass, and the bulrush in the pool.

You'll bury me, my mother, just beneath the hawthorn shade,

And you'll come sometimes and see me where I am lowly laid.

I shall not forget you, mother, I shall hear you when you pass,

With your feet above my head in the long and pleasant grass.

I have been wild and wayward, but you'll forgive me

now;

You'll kiss me, my own mother, and forgive me ere

I go;

Nay, nay, you must not weep, nor let your grief be

wild,

You should not fret for me, mother, you have another child.

If I can I'll come again, mother, from out my resting

place;

Tho' you'll not see me, mother, I shall look upon

your face;

Tho' I cannot speak a word, I shall harken what

say,

And be often, often with you

you

away.