And by the common counsel of my fellows in the Strand,
With gilded staff, and crossed scarf, the May lord here I stand.
Rejoice, O English hearts, rejoice; rejoice, O lovers dear;
Rejoice, O city, town, and country; rejoice eke every shire;
For now the fragrant flowers do spring and sprout in seemly sort,
The little birds do sit and sing, the lambs do make fine sport;
And now the birchin tree doth bud that makes the schoolboy cry,
The morrice rings while hobby-horse doth foot it featuously:
The lords and ladies now abroad, for their disport and play,
Do kiss sometimes upon the grass, and sometimes in the hay.