Classic Poem

Terlitelo, Terlitelo, terlitelee, terlo,
So merrily this shepherds boy
His horn that he can blow,
Early in a morning, late, late in an evening,
And ever sat this little boy,
So merrily piping. Fris:

Can you blow the little horn?
Well, well, and very well.
And can you blow the little horn,
Amongst the leaves green? Joc:

Fortune my foe, why dost thou frown on me?
And will my fortune never better be:
Wilt thou I say, for ever breed my pain?
And wilt thou not restore my joys again?