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Written by Charles Kingsley
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1 When all the world is young, lad,
2 And all the trees are green;
3 And every goose a swan, lad,
4 And every lass a queen;
5 Then hey for boot and horse, lad,
6 And round the world away!
7 Young blood must have its course, lad,
8 And every dog his day.
9 When all the world is old, lad,
10 And all the trees are brown;
11 And all the sport is stale, lad,
12 And all the wheels run down;
13 Creep home, and take your place there,
14 The spent and maimed among;
15 God grant you find one face there,
16 You loved when all was young.
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