When all the world is young, lad,
And all the trees are green;
And every goose a swan, lad,
And every lass a queen;
Then hey for boot and horse, lad,
And round the world away;
Young blood must have its course, lad,
And every dog his day.

When all the world is old, lad,
And all the trees are brown;
And all the sport is stale, lad,
And all the wheels run down;
Creep home, and take your place there,
The spent and maimed among:
God grant you find one face there,
You loved when all was young.


Those are the words: but they are only the body of it: the soul
of the song was the dear old woman's sweet face, and sweet voice,
and the sweet old air to which she sang; and that, alas! one cannot
put on paper. And at last she grew so stiff and lame, that the
angels were forced to carry her; and they helped her on with her
wedding-dress, and carried her up over Harthover Fells, and a long
way beyond that too; and there was a new schoolmistress in Vendale,
and we will hope that she was not certificated.