Thomas Nashe

“ Lambs frisk and play, the shepherds pipe all day,
And we hear aye birds tune this merry lay,
⁠Cuckoo, jug-jug, pu-we, to-witta-woo.
The fields breathe sweet, the daisies kiss our feet,
Young lovers meet, old wives a sunning sit. ”

“ Spring, the sweet Spring, is the year’s pleasant king;
Then blooms each thing, then maids dance in a ring,
Cold doth not sting, the pretty birds do sing,
⁠Cuckoo, jug-jug, pu-we, to-witta-woo! ”