Tune: “Pure Serene Music”
The thatched roof is slating low,
Beside the brook green grasses grow.
Who talks with drunken Southern voice so sweet?
A white-haired man and wife in their retreat.
East of the brook their eldest son is hoeing weeds;
Their second son now makes a cage for hens he feeds.
I like their youngest son who, having nothing done,
Lies by the brook podding lotus seeds one by one.