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Updated: May 24, 2025
So the class maintained and so they chanted soon and late, in many keys, "with a hey and a ho and a hey nonino." And who so bold or malicious, or age cankered as to dispute the dictum? Is it not youth's privilege to fling enthusiasm and superlatives to the wind and to deal in glorious arrogance?
If it had been Touchstone or Mercutio, or even Shylock, he would not have minded, but the pilgrims of love got scant sympathy from that sturdy misogynist. "It was a lover and his lass, With a hey and a ho, and a hey nonino, That o'er the green corn-fields did pass, In the spring-time, the only pretty ring time...." As You Like It.
We had not gone thirty paces before we heard a hearty bass voice singing: "'It was a lover and his lass, With a hey, with a ho, with a hey nonino." And there was Colonel Sharpe, straying along among the privet hedges. And so the morning of her sailing came, so full of sadness for me. Why not confess, after nigh threescore years, that break of day found me pacing the deserted dock.
As she swung the ax upon her shoulder and moved towards the trees she broke into song, the words of which reached Stane: "It was a lover and his lass With a hey, and a ho, and a hey nonino, That o'er the green cornfield did pass In the spring time, the only pretty ring time, When birds do sing, hey ding a ding, ding, Sweet lovers love the Spring."
We had not gone thirty paces before we heard a hearty bass voice singing: "'It was a lover and his lass, With a hey, with a ho, with a hey nonino." And there was Colonel Sharpe, straying along among the privet hedges. And so the morning of her sailing came, so full of sadness for me. Why not confess, after nigh threescore years, that break of day found me pacing the deserted dock.
We had not gone thirty paces before we heard a hearty bass voice singing: "'It was a lover and his lass, With a hey, with a ho, with a hey nonino." And there was Colonel Sharpe, straying along among the privet hedges. And so the morning of her sailing came, so full of sadness for me. Why not confess, after nigh threescore years, that break of day found me pacing the deserted dock.
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