Under the greenwood tree,
Who loves to lie with me,
And turn his merry note
Unto the sweet bird's throat
Come hither, come hither, come hither!
Here shall he see No enemy
But winter and rough weather.
		   
Who doth ambition shun
And loves to live i' the sun
Seeking the food he eats
And pleased with what he gets
Come hither, come hither, come hither!
Here shall he see No enemy
But winter and rough weather.