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How pleasant in winter |
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To sit by the hob |
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Just listening to the barks |
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And the howls of the dog |
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Or to walk through the green fields |
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Where wild daisies grew |
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To pluck the wild flowers |
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In the may morning dew |
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When summer is coming |
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When summer is near |
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With the trees oh so green |
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And the sky bright and clear |
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And the wee birds all singing |
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Their loved ones to woo |
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And young flowers all springing |
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In the may morning dew |
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I remember the old folk |
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All now dead and gone |
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And likewise my two brothers |
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Young Dennis and John |
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How we ran o'er the heather |
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The wild hare to pursue |
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And the proud deer we hunted |
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In the may morning dew |
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Of the house I was born in |
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There's but a stone on the stone |
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And now all 'round the garden |
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Wild thistles have grown |
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And gone are the neighbours |
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That I once knew |
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No more will we wander |
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Through the may morning dew |
