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---------by Thomas Nashe

Spring, the sweet spring, is the year's pleasant king

The blooms each thing, then maids dance in a ring,cold doth not sting, the pretty birds do singcuckoo, jug-jug, pu-we, to-witta-woo

The palm and may make country houses gay,lambs frisk and play, the shepherds pipe all day,and we hear aye birds tune this merry lay,cuckoo, jug-jug, pu-we, to-witta-woo!

The fields breathe sweetthe daisies kiss our feetyoung lovers meet , old wives a-sunning sit ,in every street these tunes our ears do greetcuckoo , Jug-jug , pu-we , to-witta-woo


Spring ! the sweet spring