In the merry month of May, In a morn by break of day, With a troop of damsels playing Forth I went forsooth a-maying.
When anon by a wood side, Where, as May was in his pride, I espied, all alone, Phillida and Corydon.
Much ado there was, God wot! He would love, and she would not, She said, never man was true: He says none was false to you;
He said he had lov'd her long; She says love should have no wrong, Corydon would kiss her then; She says, maids must kiss no men,
Till they do for good and all, When she made the shepherd call All the heavens to witness truth, Never lov'd a truer youth.
Then with many a pretty oath, Yea and nay, faith and troth, Such as silly shepherds use, When they will not love abuse;
Love, which had been long deluded, Was with kisses sweet concluded; And Phillida with garlands gay Was made the lady of May.
Spring, the sweet Spring, is the year's pleasant king; Then blooms each thing, then maids dance in a ring, Cold doth not sting, the pretty birds do sing, Cuckoo, jug-jug, pu-we, to-witta-woo!
The palm and may make country houses gay, Lambs frisk and play, the shepherds pipe all day, And we hear aye birds tune this merry lay, Cuckoo, jug-jug, pu-we, to-witta-woo.
The fields breathe sweet, the daisies kiss our feet, Young lovers meet, old wives a-sunning sit, In every street these tunes our ears do greet, Cuckoo, jug-jug, pu-we, to-witta-woo! Spring! the sweet Spring!
My mind to me a kingdom is, Such perfect joy therein I find, That it excels all other bliss That God or nature hath assigned: Though much I want that most would have, Yet still my mind forbids to crave.
No princely port, nor wealthy store, Nor force to win a victory; No wily wit to salve a sore, No shape to win a loving eye; To none of these I yield as thrall, For why, my mind despise them all.
I see that plenty surfeits oft, And hasty climbers soonest fall; I see that such as are aloft, Mishap doth threaten most of all; These get with toil, and keep with fear: Such cares my mind can never bear.
I press to bear no haughty sway; I wish no more than may suffice; I do no more than well I may, Look what I want, my mind supplies; Lo, thus I triumph like a king, My mind's content with any thing.