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William Shakespeare - Under The Greenwood Tree
Work rating: Medium

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 pleas`d with what he gets,
   Come hither, come hither, come hither:
     Here shall he see
     No enemy
   But winter and rough weather.
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