Lydia

Break forth, break forth o Sudb'ry town,

And bid your yards be gay;

Up all your gusty streets and down,

For Lydia comes today!

I hear it in the wharves below,

And if I buy or sell,

The good folk as they churchward go

Have only this to tell.

The violet flags are out once more,

In lanes salt with the sea;

The thornbush at St. Martin's door

Grows white for such as she.

So Sudb'ry bid your gardens blow;

For Lydia comes today;

Of all the words that I do know

I have but this to say:

Break forth, break forth O Sudb'ry town,

And bid your yards be gay.

Up all your gusty streets and down,

For Lydia comes today.

So Sudb'ry bid your gardens blow,

And bid your yards be gay;

Break forth, O Sudb'ry town,

For Lydia comes today.