when in the springtime of the year
when the trees are crowned with leaves
when the ash and oak and the birch and yew
are dressed in ribbons fair
when owls call the breathless moon
in the blue veil of the night
the shadows of the trees appear
amidst the lantern light
chorus:
now we've been rambling all the night
and some time of this day
now returning back again
we bring a garland gay
who will go down to the shady groves
and summon the shadows there
and tie a ribbon on those sheltering arms
in the springtime of the year
the songs of birds seem to fill the wood
that when the fiddler plays
all their voices can be heard
long past their woodland days
chorus
and so they linked their hands and danced
round circles and in rows
and so the journey of the night descends
when all the shades are gone
a garland gay we bring you here
and at your door we stand
it is a sprout well budded out
the work of our lord's hand
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