"When swallows fly"
di Charles Mackay (1814-1889)

When swallows dart from cottage eaves,
And reapers bind the barley sheaves,
When peaches peep amid the leaves,
And woodbines scent the way,
We love to fly the smoky town,
To breathe the air of woodland brown,
To join our hands and form a ring,
To laugh and sport,
To dance and sing amid the new-mown hay.