Margaret:
Isn't it a lovely night, and so alive
With fireflies providing us their holy light
And here we made a bed of boughs and thistledown
That we had found to lay upon the dewy ground
And isn't it a lovely way, we got in from our play
Isn't it babe, a sweet little baby

William:
Wasn't it a lovely breeze? that swept the leaves
Of arbor eaves and bent to brush our blushing knees

Margaret & William:
And here we died our little deaths and we were left
To catch our breaths so swiftly lifting from our chests
And isn't it a lovely way, we got in from our play
Isn't it babe, a sweet little baby