STROLLERS.

We have no castles,

We have no vassals,

We have no riches, no gems and no gold;

Nothing to ponder,

Nothing to squander —

Let us go wander

As minstrels of old.

You with your lute, love,

I with my flute, love,

Let us make music by mountain and sea;

You with your glances,

I with my dances,

Singing romances

Of old chivalry.

“Derry down derry!

Good folk, be merry!

Hither, and hearken where happiness is!—

Never go borrow

Care of to-morrow,

Never go sorrow

While life hath a kiss.”

Let the day gladden

Or the night sadden,

We will be merry in sunshine or snow;

You with your rhyme, love,

I with my chime, love,

We will make time, love,

Dance as we go.

Nothing is ours,

Only the flowers,

Meadows, and stars, and the heavens above;

Nothing to lie for,

Nothing to sigh for,

Nothing to die for

While still we have love.

“Derry down derry!

Good folk, be merry!

Hither, and hearken a word that is sooth:—

Care ye not any,

If ye have many

Or not a penny,

If still ye have youth!”