By a bank as I lay
Musing myself alone, hey ho!
A birdé's voice
Did me rejoice
Singing before the day;
And me thought in her lay
She said: “winter is past, hey ho!”
“Then dyry come dawn, dyry come dyry, come dyry!
Come dyry, come dyry, come dawn, hey ho!”

The mistress of music
The lusty nightingale, hey ho!
Full merrily
And secretly
She singeth in the thick;
And under her breast a prick,
To keep her from sleep, hey ho!
“Then dyry come dawn, dyry come dyry, come dyry!
Come dyry, come dyry, come dawn, hey ho!”

Awake therefore, young men,
All ye that lovers be, hey ho!
This month of May,
So fresh, so gay,
So fair in fields on fen,
Hath flourished ilk again.
Great joy it is to see, hey ho!
“Then dyry come dawn, dyry come dyry, come dyry!
Come dyry, come dyry, come dawn, hey ho!”