Oak, Ash And Thorn

Of all the trees that grow so fair

Old engerland to adorn

Greater are none beneath the Sun

Than oak and ash and thorn

Sing oak and ash and thorn, good sirs

(All of a midsummer's morn)

Surely we sing of no little thing

In oak and ash and thorn!

Oak of the clay lived many a day

Or ever aeneas began

Ash of the loam was a lady at home

When brut was an outlaw man

Thorn of the down saw new troy town

(From which was London born)

Witness hereby the ancientry

Of oak and ash and thorn!

Yew that is old in churchyard mould

He breedeth a mighty bow

Alder for shoes do wise men choose

And beech for cups also

But when ye have killed, and your bowl is spilled

Your shoes are clean outworn

Back ye must speed for all that ye need

To oak and ash and thorn!

Ellum she hateth mankind, and waiteth

Till every gust be laid

To drop a limb on the head of him

That anyway trusts her shade

But whether a lad be sober or sad

Or mellow with ale from the horn

He'll take no wrong when he lieth along

'Neath oak and ash and thorn!

Oh, do not tell the priest our plight

Or he would call it a sin

But we have been out in the woods all night

A-conjuring summer in!

And we bring you news by word of mouth

Good news for cattle and corn

Now is the Sun come up from the south

With oak and ash and thorn!

Sing oak and ash and thorn, good sirs

(All of a midsummer's morn)!

England shall bide till judgement tide

By oak and ash and thorn!