it's not like elves to hide their gold
where fortune seekers dive
though pirate lore and island shore
yield only ransomed lives

[chorus]
there's may day and may wine
and may i please come home
but the briar grows before the rose
and neither grows alone
we'll dance tonight 'til we faint in the light
of the dawn's sweet song of spring
'round the may pole like a day stole
like our feet are borne of wings

it's not like sirens to sing their songs
for sailors with cautious ears
they lure no coward right or wrong
and trade not death for fear

it's not like kings to yield their, wines
for hundreds of years of war
though drop by drop the ancient vine
paints blood on every door

it's not like the girls to give consent
to men of ragged prose
though poets sing of nursery rhymes
their cradles are filied with hope

it's not like me to give my heart
in these drowsy daffodil days
though dreams they douse the timid spark
where sleep presents its plays

it's not like saints to tell the tales
of nights on windswept moors
where death defies the dreams of fate
to close the cellar door

it's not like shepherds to lay them down
when wolves are on the prowl
though songs they scare the waking town
an ill wind has no howl

by John S. Hardy © 1978 John S. Hardy Music Co. ASCAP