Come every shepherd with his love, 
And court the western gale; 
Come let us seek the oaken grove 
In sweet Llangollen vale.
There with a sigh the ardent youth 
May urge his tender tale, 
The evening hours in joy beguile, 
And happy he,
Beneath the tree, 
Whose fair rewards him with a smile. 
The pipe shall cheer with merry strain, 
The harp in concert sound, 
And lightly ev'ry maid and swain, 
Trip on the grassy ground:
Or, seated in a ring, 
we'll pass The cheerful song around. 
Come, let us court the western gale, 
And joyful haste,
Awhile to taste,
The sweets of lov'd Llangollen vale.