Cuckoo, thou prophetic bird,
Blossom-songster ! hear the word
Of a youthful loving pair,
In the sweetest time of year,
Do, thou charming warbler, thou,
May they hope ? sing to them now,
Thy cuckoo, thy cuckoo,
And again cuckoo, cuckoo.

Hear! a loving pair demand
At the altar soon to stand ;
They are in the bloom of youth,
Full of love, and full of truth.
Say, will it be soon or late ?
How long will they have to wait ?
Hark ! cuckoo ! hark ! cuckoo !
Silent now ? ’tis only two !

Mine is not the fault, nor hers,
Patience but for two more years !
But, when we are one become,
Will pa pa papas e’er come ?
We’ll rejoice if thou but criest,
And us many prophesiest,
One ! cuckoo ! two ! cuckoo !
And again, cuckoo, cuckoo, coo.
If we counted rightly, near
Half a dozen ’twould appear.
Wilt thou, if fair words we give,
Say how long we have to live ?
True, we fain would, if we can,
Live life’s very longest span.
Coo, cuckoo, coo, cuckoo,
Cuckoo, cuckoo, cuckoo, cuckoo, &c.

Life is a great jubilee
When it cannot reckoned be.
If we e’er old age attain,
Will our faithful love remain ?
O, if that should e’er be o’er,
Nought on earth were lovely more:
Coo, cuckoo, coo, cuckoo,
Cuckoo, cuckoo, cuckoo, cuckoo, &c.
(gracefully in infinitum.)