Little Jenny Dow lives beyond the mill, 
Her merry voice is heard all round; 
Her happy smiles are seen on the green clad hill, 
Where ere the budding flow'rs are found. 

She greets the blushing morn like a dew drop bright, 
And carols thro' the live long day; 
She gladdens up my heart like a beam of light, 
And drives my bitter cares away. 

Chorus: 
Merrily, merrily, merrily, 
Her winning little voice is ringing, 
And the woodland birds are singing 
To little Jenny Dow. 

Many are the hearts that have sigh'd for her, 
And many that have sigh'd in pain, 
Many that I know would have died for her, 
And alas they would have died in vain.

Little Jenny Dow never clouds her brow 
In sorrow o'er a love-lorn swain; 
With spirits full of glee none so gay as she, 
As she rambles o'er the hill and plain. 

By the gushing streamlets her footsteps glide, 
Leaving little prints in the sand; 
You'll meet her in the dale or the woodland wide, 
Giving life and joy to the land: 

Ever may she roam with the same light heart, 
Every many she sing with glee; 
While the summer days can their beams impart, 
And summer birds their melody.