The Echoing Green

The sun does arise,<br>
And make happy the skies;<br>
The merry bells ring<br>
To welcome the spring;<br>
The skylark and thrush,<br>
The birds of the bush,<br>
Sing louder around<br>
To the bell’s cheerful sound,<br>
While our sports shall be seen<br>
On the Echoing Green.<br>
<br>
Old John with white hair,<br>
Does laugh away care,<br>
Sitting under the oak,<br>
Among the old folk.<br>
They laugh at our play,<br>
And soon they all say:<br>
“Such, such were the joys<br>
When we all, girls and boys,<br>
In our youth time were seen<br>
On the Echoing Green.”<br>
<br>
Till the little ones, weary,<br>
No more can be merry;<br>
The sun does descend,<br>
And our sports have an end.<br>
Round the laps of their mothers<br>
Many sisters and brother,<br>
Like birds in their nest,<br>
Are ready for rest,<br>
And sport no more seen<br>
On the darkening Green.