This Merry Peasant Spring

This merry pleasant spring,
Hark, hark, hark, how the sweet bird sings
And carol in the copse and on the briar.
Jug, jug, jug, the nightingale delivers.
Yt, it, it, it, the sparrow sings his hot desire;
The robin he records;
The lark, the quivers.
O sweet, oh sweet, as sweet as ever.
From strains so sweet, sweet birds deprive us never.