The hedge is full of houses,
And the houses full of eggs,
For it's spring;
So the yellowhammer tinkles
To the hawthorn green again,
On the wing.

The sparrow, he the gymnast,
Swings more boldly on his spray
In the sun;
And the mavis floods the orchard
With an air too fine for June,
Trill and run.

Now my milking maid is waiting
By the haystack for a kiss
In the dusk;
So I clasp my love in lilac,
Dearly sweet with double scent,
Milk and musk.