Puck of Pook's Hill, Page 4

  A TREE SONG

  _Of all the trees that grow so fair,_ _Old England to adorn,_ _Greater are none beneath the Sun,_ _Than Oak, and Ash, and Thorn._ _Sing Oak, and Ash, and Thorn, good Sirs_ _(All of a Midsummer morn)!_ _Surely we sing no little thing,_ _In Oak, and Ash, and Thorn!_

  _Oak of the Clay lived many a day,_ _Or ever AEneas began;_ _Ash of the Loam was a lady at home,_ _When Brut was an outlaw man;_ _Thorn of the Down saw New Troy Town_ _(From which was London born);_ _Witness hereby the ancientry_ _Of Oak, and Ash, and Thorn!_

  _Yew that is old in churchyard mould,_ _He breedeth a mighty bow;_ _Alder for shoes do wise men choose,_ _And beech for cups also._ _But when ye have killed, and your bowl is spilled,_ _And your shoes are clean outworn,_ _Back ye must speed for all that ye need,_ _To Oak, and Ash, and Thorn!_

  _Ellum she hateth mankind, and waiteth_ _Till every gust be laid,_ _To drop a limb on the head of him,_ _That anyway trusts her shade_ _But whether a lad be sober or sad,_ _Or mellow with ale from the horn,_ _He will take no wrong when he lieth along_ _'Neath Oak, and Ash, and Thorn!_

  _Oh, do not tell the Priest our plight,_ _Or he would call it a sin;_ _But--we have been out in the woods all night_ _A-conjuring Summer in!_ _And we bring you news by word of mouth--_ _Good news for cattle and corn--_ _Now is the Sun come up from the South,_ _With Oak, and Ash, and Thorn!_

  _Sing Oak, and Ash, and Thorn, good Sirs_ _(All of a Midsummer morn)!_ _England shall bide till Judgment Tide,_ _By Oak, and Ash and Thorn!_

  YOUNG MEN AT THE MANOR