A woodland path through a primrose dell
  Gay with gath'ring green of spring;
And youth with a tale in the heart to tell,
  And a song on the lips to sing,
    Heigh ho,
  With a song on the lips to sing!

That woodland path with its primrose gold
  In the spring year by year is fair,
And the story to tell is again retold,
  For 'tis ever a new one there,
    Heigh ho,
  It is ever a new one there!