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Oak, Ash, and Thorn
(Words, Rudyard Kipling. Music, Peter
Bellamy)
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Of all the trees that grow so fair, old England
to adorn,
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Greater are none beneath the sun than Oak, and
Ash, and Thorn.
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Of Oak, and Ash, and
Thorn good sirs,
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All on a midsummer's
morn.
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Surely we sing of no
little thing
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Of Oak, and Ash, and
Thorn.
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Oak of the clay lived many a day o'er ever Aeneas
began
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Ash of the loam was a lady at home when Brut was
an outlaw man,
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And Thorn of the down saw new Troy town, from
which was London born
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Witness hereby the ancientry of Oak, and Ash, and
Thorn.
Yew that is old, in churchyard mould, he breedeth
a mighty bow
Alder for shoes do wise men choose, and Beech for
cups also
But when you have killed, and you bowl it is
filled, and your shoes are clean outworn
Back you must speed for all that you need to Oak,
and Ash, and Thorn
Elm, she hates mankind, and waits till every gust
be laid,
To drop a limb on the head of him that anyway
trusts her shade,
But whether a lad be sober or sad, or mellow with
ale from the horn,
He'll taketh no wrong when he lyeth along 'neath
Oak, and Ash, and Thorn
Oh, do not tell the priest our plight, or he
would call it sin,
But we've been out in the woods all night,
a-conjuring summer in,
And we bring you good news by word of mouth, good
news for cattle and corn
Now is the sun come up from the south, by Oak,
and Ash, and Thorn.
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