Awake, awake, my pretty prithy maid,
Come out of your drowsy dream,
And step into your dairy hold,
And fetch me a bowl of cream
If not a bowl of cream, my dear,
A cup of meade to cheer,
For the Lord and Lady know we shall meet again,
To go Maying another year.
A branch of May I brought you here,
While at your keep I stand,
‘Tis but a sprout all budded out,
By the power of our Lady’s hand.
My song is done and I must be gone,
No longer may I stay,
Gods bless you all, the great and small,
And send you a joyous May.