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Updated: May 17, 2025
But there he stopped; for the boys were singing in the great hall below, and the whole house rang with the sound of the roaring chorus: "Down-a-down, hey, down-a-down, Hey derry derry down-a-down!"
He gave it up in despair, and kicking the chunks together, stood upon the hearth, warming his hands by the gathering blaze while he listened to the song: "Cold's the wind, and wet's the rain; Saint Hugh, be our good speed! Ill is the weather that bringeth no gain, Nor helps good hearts in need. "Down-a-down, hey, down-a-down, Hey derry derry down-a-down!"
Nick put his fingers in his ears, and began all over again: "Sir Fly hangs dead on the window-pane; The frost doth wind his shroud; Through the halls of his little summer house The north wind cries aloud." But it was no use; all he could hear was: "Down-a-down, hey, down-a-down, Hey derry derry down-a-down!" How could a fellow study in a noise like that?
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