Break forth, break forth o Sudb'ry town,
And bid your yards be gay;
Up all your gusty streets and down,
For Lydia comes today!

I hear it in the wharves below,
And if I buy or sell,
The good folk as they churchward go
Have only this to tell.

The violet flags are out once more,
In lanes salt with the sea;
The thornbush at St. Martin's door
Grows white for such as she.

So Sudb'ry bid your gardens blow;
For Lydia comes today;
Of all the words that I do know
I have but this to say:

Break forth, break forth O Sudb'ry town,
And bid your yards be gay.
Up all your gusty streets and down,
For Lydia comes today.

So Sudb'ry bid your gardens blow,
And bid your yards be gay;
Break forth, O Sudb'ry town,
For Lydia comes today.