Classic Poem

Come , you young men, come along
With your music, dance and song;
Bring your lasses in your hands,
For 'tis that which Love commands:
Then to the maypole come away,
For it is now a holiday.

It is the choice time of the year,
For the violets now appear;
Now the rose receives its birth,
And pretty primrose decks the earth:
Then to the maypole come away,
For it is now a holiday.

Here each batchelor may chose
One that will not faith abuse;
Nor repay with coy disdain,
Love, that should be loved again:
Then to the maypole come away,
For it is now a holiday.

And when you well reckoned have
What kisses you your sweethearts gave,
Take them all again, and more;
It will never make them poor:
Then to the maypole come away,
For it is now a holiday.

When you thus have spent the time,
Till the day be past its prime,
To your beds repair at night,
And dream there of your days delight:
Then to the maypole come away,
For it is now a holiday.