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When All the World is Young, Lad by Charles Kingsley (1863)

When all the world is young, lad,

And all the trees are green ;

And every goose a swan, lad,

And every lass a queen ;

Then hey for boot and horse, lad,

And round the world away ;

Young blood must have its course, lad,

And every dog his day.

When all the world is old, lad,

And all the trees are brown ;

And all the sport is stale, lad,

And all the wheels run down ;

Creep home, and take your place there,

The spent and maimed among:

God grant you find one face there,

You loved when all was young.