To-morrow'll be the happiest time of all the glad New-year;

Of all the glad New-year, the maddest, merriest day;

For I'm to be the Queen o' the May, mother, I'm to be Queen o' the May.

I sleep so sound all night, mother, that I shall never a-wake,

If you do not call me loud when the day begins to break:

But I must gather knots of flowers, and buds and garlands gay,

For I'm to be Queen o' the May, mother, I'm to be Queen o' the May.

Little Effie shall go with me to-morrow to the green,

And you'll be there too, mother, to see me made the Queen;

The shepherd lads on every side'll come from far a-way,

And I'm to be Queen o' the May, mother, I'm to be Queen o' the May.

All the valley, mother, will be fresh, and green, and still,

And the cowslip and the crow-foot are over all the hill,

The rivulet in the flowery dale will merrily glance and play,

For I'm to be Queen o' the May, mother, I'm to be Queen o' the May.

The night winds come and go, mother, upon the meadow grass,

And the happy stars above them seem to brighten as they pass;

There will not be a drop o' rain the whole o' the livelong day,

And I'm to be Queen o' the May, mother, I'm to be Queen o' the May.

So you must wake and call me early, call me early, mother dear,

To-morrow'll be the happiest time of all the glad New-year:

To-morrow'll be of all the year the maddest, merriest day,

For I'm to be Queen o' the May, mother, I'm to be Queen o' the May.

For I would see the sun rise upon the glad New-year.

It is the last New-year that I shall ever see,

Then you may lay me low i' the mould and think no more of me.

To-night I saw the sun set: he set and left behind

The good old year, the dear old time, and all my peace of mind;

And the New-year's coming up, mother, but I shall never see

The blossom on the black-thorn, the leaf upon the tree.

There's not a flower on all the hills: the frost is on the pane:

I only wish to live till the snow-drops come again:

I wish the snow would melt, and the sun come out on high:

I long to see a flower so before the day I die.

The building rook'll caw from the windy, tall elm tree,

And the tufted plover pipe along the fallow lea,

And the swallow will come back again with summer o'er the wave,

But I shall lie alone, mother, within the mould'ring grave.

Upon the chancel casement and upon that grave of mine,

In the early early morning the summer sun'll shine,

Before the red cock crows from the farm upon the hill,

When you are warm asleep, mother, and all the world is still.

Good-night, good-night, when I have said good-night for evermore,

And you see me carried out from the threshold of the door;

Don't let Effie come to see me till my grave be growing green:

She'll be a better child to you than I have ever been.

Good-night, sweet mother: call me before the day is born;

All night I lie awake, but I fall asleep at morn;

But I would see the sun rise upon the glad New-year,

So, if you're waking, call me, call me early, mother dear.