The Faun

The Faun piped in the coppice, 
He piped a plaintive strain; 
I called on him to stop his
"Sweet Summer, come again!" 
Said he, "I pine for posies,
For June in wood and wold; 
The nymphs have got red noses 
And all the world’s a-cold!"

"Come, ring a ring of roses," 
Quoth I, "my bonnie lad;
Though nymphs have got red noses 
There’s balm in Gilead;
Though frosty breezes rack us 
Through forests all forlorn,
I know a nook where Bacchus
Fills high the jolly horn.

"Come, though the rude North bellows, 
I know a rosy inn
Where certain sound good fellows 
Sip sunshine from the bin,
True knights of malt and vine, Faun, 
Who'll reck not of attire
In any friend of mine, Faun, 
About the tap-room fire."

He came, he drained the rummer 
Of friendship and accord; 
He swore 'twas always summer 
When Bacchus is the lord; 
And, ring a ring of roses, 
He didn’t care a jot 
If nymphs had got red noses 
Or whether they had not.