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Under the green wood tree
Who loves to lie with me
And turn his merry note
Unto the sweet birds throat
Come Heather come Heather come Heather
Here shall he see No enemy
But winter and rough weather!
Who doth ambition shun
And loves to live in the sun
Seeking the food he eats
And become pleased with what he gets
Come Heather come Heather come Heather
Here shall he see no enemy
But winter and rough weather.