The cock shall crow
J. Carpenter
The cock shall crow in the morning grey,
The bugles blow at the break of day,
The cock shall sing and the merry bugles ring;
And all the little brown birds sing upon the spray.
The thorn shall blow in the month of May,
My love shall go in her holiday array,
But I shall like in the Kirkyard nigh,
While all the little brown birds sing upon the spray.