I like to rise when the sun she rises
Early in the morningI like to hear them small birds singing
Merrily upon their laylem
And hurrah for the life of a country boy
We'll go rambling in the new-mown hay!
In spring we sow at the harvest we mow
And that is how the seasons roundly go;
But if all the times if choose I may
I'll go rambling thru' the new-mown hay.
In winter when the skies are grey
We hedge and we ditch our time away;
But in the summer when the sun shines gay
We go rambling thru' the new-mown hay.