| |
| LONDON, 1 to thee I do present | |
| The merry month of May; | |
| Let each true subject be content | |
| To hear me what I say: | |
| For from the top of conduit-head, | 5 |
| As plainly may appear, | |
| I will both tell my name to you, | |
| And wherefore I came here. | |
| My name is Ralph, by due descent, | |
| Though not ignoble I, | 10 |
| Yet far inferior to the flock | |
| Of gracious grocery; | |
| And by the common counsel of | |
| My fellows in the Strand, | |
| With gilded staff and crossèd scarf, | 15 |
| The May-lord here I stand. | |
| Rejoice, oh, English hearts, rejoice! | |
| Rejoice, oh, lovers dear! | |
| Rejoice, oh, city, town, and country, | |
| Rejoice eke every shire! | 20 |
| For now the fragrant flowers do spring | |
| And sprout in seemly sort, | |
| The little birds do sit and sing, | |
| The lambs do make fine sport; | |
| And now the birchen-tree doth bud, | 25 |
| That makes the schoolboy cry; | |
| The morris rings, while hobby-horse | |
| Doth foot it feateously; | |
| The lords and ladies now abroad, | |
| For their disport and play, | 30 |
| Do kiss sometimes upon the grass, | |
| And sometimes in the hay. | |
| Now butter with a leaf of sage | |
| Is good to purge the blood; | |
| Fly Venus and phlebotomy, | 35 |
| For they are neither good! | |
| Now little fish on tender stone | |
| Begin to cast their bellies, | |
| And sluggish snails, that erst were mewed, | |
| Do creep out of their shellies; | 40 |
| The rumbling rivers now do warm, | |
| For little boys to paddle; | |
| The sturdy steed now goes to grass, | |
| And up they hang the saddle; | |
| The heavy hart, the bellowing buck, | 45 |
| The rascal, and the pricket, | |
| Are now among the yeoman’s pease, | |
| And leave the fearful thicket; | |
| And be like them, oh, you, I say, | |
| Of this same noble town, | 50 |
| And lift aloft your velvet heads, | |
| And slipping off your gown, | |
| With bells on legs, and napkins clean | |
| Unto your shoulders tied, | |
| With scarfs and garters as you please, | 55 |
| And “Hey for our town!” 2 cried, | |
| March out and show your willing minds, | |
| By twenty and by twenty, | |
| To Hogsdon, or to Newington, 3 | |
| Where ale and cakes are plenty; | 60 |
| And let it ne’er be said for shame, | |
| That we the youths of London | |
| Lay thrumming of our caps at home, | |
| And left our custom undone. | |
| Up then, I say, both young and old, | 65 |
| Both man and maid a-maying, | |
| With drums and guns that bounce aloud, | |
| And merry tabour playing! | |
| Which to prolong, God save our king, | |
| And send his country peace, | 70 |
| And rout out treason from the land! | |
| And so, my friends, I cease. | |
