Part 1
Come live with me and be my love,
And we will all the pleasures prove.
That hills and valleys, dale and field,
And all the craggy mountains yield.

There we will sit upon the rocks
And see the shepherds feed their flocks,
By shallow rivers, to whose falls
Melodious birds sing madrigals.

Part 2
There will I make a bed of rose
A thousand petals there I chose,
A cap of flowers, and a gown
Embroidered all with leaves surround.

A robe made of the finest wool
Which from enduring flocks we pull,
Fur lined to shield against the cold,
And raindrops of the purest gold.

Belts of straw and ivy buds
With coral clasps and amber studs:
And if these pleasures may thee move,
Come live with me and be my Love.

The shepherd swains shall dance and sing
For thy delight each May-morning:
If these delights thy mind may move,
Then live with me and be my Love.

Our acre, once tall,
Now barren and frail.
"Devils", said father,
Had cursed our vale.

"Hunt them", protect us,
"Go forth", I did plea.
Mother did aver,
The right remedy.

"Erce, Erce, Erce", we spoke.
The rite was afoot,
How graven our folk.

Herb, milk and honey,
They fell upon sward.
Now Earth's blessed mother,
Our yield, she will guard.

Came forth a liege and five loyal kin,
To a realm men sought to claim,
An old Witch thence appeared to them,
Her terms she did outlay...

The Witch -
"From this point on you all I'll make,
Seven strides shalt thou now take,
And if Long Compton thou can see,
A King of England shall thou be...
And if Long Compton thou can't see,
No King of England shalt thy be.
Rise up stick and rise up stone,
For a King of England shalt be none".

An Ode to the Elder Mother -
"Old girl, old girl give to me,
Some of thy wood, and I'll give thee,
Some of mine, some of mine
when I turn into a tree".

I am a Lord's attendant,
A soldier's loyal kin,
To my master dear,
Companion to my king.

A queen on me sometimes,
Nobly, swears an oath.

I hold in my possession,
The latch to a grave.

My tongue is firm,
Yet oft I, to the poet,
A loan of words
Give for his verse.

Faultless is my form,
And noble is my cause,
Yet in the hands of some
Deathly is my touch

If all the world and love were young,
And truth in every shepherd's tongue,
These pretty pleasures might me move,
To live with thee and be thy love.

Time drives the flocks from field to fold
When rivers rage and rocks grow cold,
And songs of birds becometh dumb;
The rest complains of cares to come.

Flowers fade and wanton fields
Wayward winter reckoning yields
Honey Tongue a heart of Gall
Sorrow's Fall

Thy belt of straw and Ivy buds,
Thy coral clasps and amber studs,
All these in me no means can move
To come to thee and be thy love.

Flowers fade and wanton fields
Wayward winter reckoning yields
Honey Tongue a heart of Gall
Sorrow's Fall

Could youth last and love still breed,
Had joys no date, nor age, nor need,
These delights my mind might move
To by thy love.

Old are the woods
And the buds that do break
From the coarse brier's boughs,
When the fierce winds wake.

Old are our ways
As the streams that still rise,
Where the snow now sleeps cold
In the deep azure skies.

So, who are we now,
A horde of their ghosts?
Or oaks that were acorns,
From the trees of their hopes?

Sing of such a history,
Of come and of gone.
If their means they were wise,
In ourselves they live on.

So, who are we now,
A horde of their ghosts?
Or oaks that were acorns,
From the trees of their hopes?

If all the world and love were young,
And truth in every shepherd's tongue,
These pretty pleasures might me move,
To live with thee and be thy love.

Time drives the flocks from field to fold
When rivers rage and rocks grow cold,
And songs of birds becometh dumb;
The rest complains of cares to come.

Flowers fade and wanton fields
Wayward winter reckoning yields
Honey Tongue a heart of Gall
Sorrow's Fall

Thy belt of straw and Ivy buds,
Thy coral clasps and amber studs,
All these in me no means can move
To come to thee and be thy love.

Flowers fade and wanton fields
Wayward winter reckoning yields
Honey Tongue a heart of Gall
Sorrow's Fall

Could youth last and love still breed,
Had joys no date, nor age, nor need,
These delights my mind might move
To by thy love.

Our acre, once tall,
Now barren and frail.
"Devils", said father,
Had cursed our vale.

"Hunt them", protect us,
"Go forth", I did plea.
Mother did aver,
The right remedy.

"Erce, Erce, Erce", we spoke.
The rite was afoot,
How graven our folk.

Herb, milk and honey,
They fell upon sward.
Now Earth's blessed mother,
Our yield, she will guard.

Came forth a liege and five loyal kin,
To a realm men sought to claim,
An old Witch thence appeared to them,
Her terms she did outlay...

The Witch -
"From this point on you all I'll make,
Seven strides shalt thou now take,
And if Long Compton thou can see,
A King of England shall thou be...
And if Long Compton thou can't see,
No King of England shalt thy be.
Rise up stick and rise up stone,
For a King of England shalt be none".

An Ode to the Elder Mother -
"Old girl, old girl give to me,
Some of thy wood, and I'll give thee,
Some of mine, some of mine
when I turn into a tree".