Where the gentle Avon flows
And a trailing rambler grows,
There’s a window shining into the night
And a casement curtain flutters and blows in candlelight,

And a girl sits listening there
To a haunting old world aire.
As if someone played so softly below,
All entranced she hears that sweet serenade of long ago.

All the while her wonder grows
As that [bad word] and goes.
Ah! What magic makes this rare delight!
Her calling awakes the midsummer night:

Who can it be playing out there,
Playing for me such a sweet aire?
Clavicord bells tinkling in time,
Why do you chime?
Why do you ring ding ding?
Tell me, minstrel; tell me the tale of love you sing!

Phantom answer came there none,
But she waited on and on
Till her window grew bright with dawn’s early glow
And that bygone lover haunting the night was silent below.
He no longer played that sweet serenade of long ago.

/ sung by Nelson Civic Ladies choir