text: Under the greenwood tree
  Who loves to lie with me,
  And turn his merry note
  Unto the sweet bird's throat,
  Come hither, come hither, come hither:
              Here shall he see
              No enemy
  But winter and rough weather.
  
  Who doth ambition shun
  And loves to live i' the sun,
  Seeking the food he eats,
  And pleased with what he gets,
  Come hither, come hither, come hither:
              Here shall he see
              No enemy
  But winter and rough weather.