The sun does arise
And make happy the skies
The merry bells ring
To welcome the spring
The skylark and thrush
The birds of the bush
Sing louder around
To the bell's cheerful sound
While our sports shall be seen
On the Ecchoing Green

Old John with white hair
Does laugh away care
Sitting under the oak
Among the old folk
They laugh at our play
And soon they all say
"Such, such were the joys
When we all, girls and boys
In our youth time were seen
On the Echoing Green."

Till the little ones, weary
No more can be merry
The sun does descend
And our sports have an end
Round the laps of their mothers
Many sisters and brother
Like birds in their nest
Are ready for rest
And sport no more seen
On the darkening Green