UNDER THE GEEENWOOD TREE

                 Under the greenwood tree

                 Who loves to lie with me,

                  And turn his merry note

                  Unto the sweet bird's throat,

       Come hither , come hither , come hither :

                   Here shall he see

                    No enemy

        But winter and rough weather .

                   Who doth ambition shun ,

                    And loves to live i' the sun ,

                    Seeking the food he eats ,

                    And pleased with what he gets ,

       Come hither , come hither , come hither :

                     Here shall he see

                     No enemy

        But winter and rough weather.

 

 

                                                                                        -------   William Shakespeare