Of all the trees that grow so fair
Old England to adorn
Greater are none, beneath the sun
Than oak and ash and thorn
Sing oak and ash and thorn, good sirs
All on a midsummer's morn
Surely we'll sing of no little thing
In oak and ash and thorn
Yew that is old, in churchyard mould
He breedeth a mighty bough
Alder for shoes, do wise men choose
And beach for cups also
But when you have killed and your 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
Sing oak and ash and thorn, good sirs
All on a midsummer's morn
Surely we'll sing of no little thing
In oak and ash and thorn
Sing oak and ash and thorn, good sirs
All on a midsummer's morn
Surely we'll sing of no little thing
In oak and ash and thorn
Elm she hates mankind and waits
'Til every gust be laid
To drop a limb on the head of him
That any way trusts her shade
But whether a lad be sober or sad
Or mellow with ale from the horn
He'll take no wrong when he lieth along
'Neath oak and ash and thorn
Sing oak and ash and thorn, good sirs
All on a midsummer's morn
Surely we'll sing of no little thing
In oak and ash and thorn
Sing oak and ash and thorn, good sirs
All on a midsummer's morn
Surely we'll sing of no little thing
In oak and ash and thorn
Oh, do not tell the priest our plight
For he would call it a sin
But we've been out in the woods all night
Conjuring summer in
We bring you good news by word of mouth
Good news for cattle and corn
Sure as the sun come up from the south
By oak and ash and thorn
Sing oak and ash and thorn, good sirs
All on a midsummer's morn
Surely we'll sing of no little thing
In oak and ash and thorn
Sing oak and ash and thorn, good sirs
All on a midsummer's morn
Surely we'll sing of no little thing
In oak and ash and thorn