Softly, softly sing;
Hand in hand glide swiftly round;
Gaily, gaily, gaily,
Mark the measur'd sound:
Let us skim the meadows fair,
Now on waving pinions rise;
Lightly beat the wanton air,
And breathing sweets ascend the skies.

Softly, softly sing;
Hand in hand glide swiftly round;
Gaily, gaily, gaily,
Mark the measur'd sound:
On the breast of yonder rose,
Let us rest our wearied wings;
Not a flower in spring that blows,
Around so mild an odour flings.

Softly, softly sing;
Hand in hand glide swiftly round;
Gaily, gaily, gaily,
Mark the measur'd sound.
Blooming rose, thy beauty's pride,
Fades before the noontide hour:
Zephyrs rise on ev'ry side,
And fan your lovely drooping flower.