Bentley's Miscellany By Charles Dickens, William Harrison Ainsworth, Albert Smith : Three of my passions here conjoined: whiskey, May, and song. Ah, the wonder of the keyword search. OH the May-morn of yore was a blithe one, I ween, When they danced round the pole on the old village green ; When the maids gather'd dew at the break of the day, And they wore a bright wreath for the Queen of the May. Though the good times are past, and the world has grown cold, Still the dew and the flowers are as sweet as of old ; Still the sky laughs with love, and the earth with good cheer, And the birds sing their merriest song of the year. Wake up, Marion, wake — come away, come away ! Tis the morn that we love, — 'tis the morn of the May ! Our steeds but thy coming, fair loiterer, wait ; Hark the neigh of Black Gipsey below at the gate ! Her bridle I've wreathed with the freshest of green, And I 've cull'd thee a rose, love, that 's fit for a queen. The h