Oak & Ash & Thorn

Of all the trees that grow so fair, old England to adorn
 Greater are none beneath the sun than Oak, and Ash, and Thorn
 Sing Oak, and Ash, and Thorn, good sirs
 All on a midsummer's morn
 Surely we'll sing of no little thing
 In Oak, and Ash, and Thorn
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 Yew that is old, in churchyard mould, he breedeth a mighty bow
 Alder for shoes do wise men choose, and Beech for cups also
 But when you have killed
 And your bowl it is filled, and your shoes are clean outworn
 Back you must speed for all that you need to Oak, and Ash, and Thorn
 Sing Oak, and Ash, and Thorn, good sirs
 All on a midsummer's morn
 Surely we'll sing of no little thing
 In Oak, and Ash, and Thorn
 Sing Oak, and Ash, and Thorn, good sirs
 All on a midsummer's morn
 Surely we'll sing of no little thing
 In Oak, and Ash, and Thorn
 ♪
 Elm, she hates mankind and waits, 'til every gust be laid
 To drop a limb on the head of him that anyway trusts her shade
 But whether a lad be sober or sad, or mellow with ale from the horn
 He'll take no wrong when he lyeth along 'neath Oak, and Ash, and Thorn
 Sing Oak, and Ash, and Thorn, good sirs
 All on a midsummer's morn
 Surely we'll sing of no little thing
 In Oak, and Ash, and Thorn
 Sing Oak, and Ash, and Thorn, good sirs
 All on a midsummer's morn
 Surely we'll sing of no little thing
 In Oak, and Ash, and Thorn
 ♪
 Oh, do not tell the priest our plight
 For he would call it a sin
 But we've been out in the woods all night, a-conjuring summer in
 We bring you good news by word of mouth, good news for cattle and corn
 Sure as the sun come up from the south, by Oak, and Ash, and Thorn
 Sing Oak, and Ash, and Thorn, good sirs
 All on a midsummer's morn
 Surely we'll sing of no little thing
 In Oak, and Ash, and Thorn
 Sing Oak, and Ash, and Thorn, good sirs
 All on a midsummer's morn
 Surely we'll sing of no little thing
 In Oak, and Ash, and Thorn
 Sing Oak, and Ash, and Thorn, good sirs
 All on a midsummer's morn
 Surely we'll sing of no little thing
 In Oak, and Ash, and Thorn
 Sing Oak, and Ash, and Thorn, good sirs
 All on a midsummer's morn
 Surely we'll sing of no little thing
 In Oak, and Ash, and Thorn