This text comes from The Poetical Works of John Keats, a historical songbook transcribed on Wikisource and reproduced from the pinned revision linked below.
Here all the summer I could stay,
For there's a Bishop's Teign,
And King's Teign,
And Coomb at the clear Teign's head;
Where, close by the stream.
You may have your cream,
All spread upon barley bread.
There's Arch Brook,
And there's Larch Brook,—
Both turning many a mill;
And cooling the drouth
Of the salmon's mouth,
And fattening his silver gill.
There's a wild wood,
A mild hood,
To the sheep on the lea o' the down;
Where the golden furze,
With its green, thin spurs,
Doth catch at the maiden's gown.
There's Newton Marsh,
With its spear-grass harsh,—
A pleasant summer level;
Where the maidens sweet
Of the Market street,
Do meet in the dark to revel.
There's Barton rich,
With dyke and ditch,
Add hedge for the thrush to live in;
And the hollow tree,
For the buzzing bee,
And a bank for the wasp to hive in.
And O and O,
The daisies blow.
And the primroses are wakened;
And the violets white
Sit in silver light,
And the green buds are long iti the spike end.
Then who would go
Into dark Soho,
And chatter with dank-haired critics,
When he can stay
For the new-mown hay,
And startle the dappled crickets?