Here my home lies under vine

Screened by trees of the summer time

Shadows fall at day’s decline

Mind your step and I’ll mind mine.


Come to my doorway

If you must

Shall I be here? Or am I dust?


Under vines my home now lies

If you would find it, close your eyes

Never grasp for a mystic prize

My day is done and your day dies.


Come to my threshold

If you will

Seeking wisdom from Old Jill.


Creep through the trees in summer’s blaze

Come young lads and winsome maids

Lightfoot step in your spring of days

Look for me in the greenwood’s shade.


Come to my window

If you can

Seeking wisdom, maid or man.


Soft through the autumn you may steal

Or when the frost in runes revealed

All the sorrows years may heal

Sweet intentions be your shield.


Come to the place where

Old Jill’s bones

Lie in peace, as will your own.

Come to the cottage

In the trees

Walk o’er me gently, if you please.