It is the merry time of Spring and cows are in the field,
The farmers work and plough their land their yearly crops to yield.
The rain is gone, the sun is come, the water-barrels leak,
The buttercups we gather and the birds’ nests now we seek.
The cuckoo calls upon the ash for Summer near is come,
The bees they drone all round about and make a sleepy hum.
And far away a-jigging in the air, a butterfly
Flits and dances o’er the world, across the cloudless sky.