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Listen now, Great Pan he calls us

from the green wood in his grove.

'Neath the waxing moon above us,

hear his clear flute sweet and low,

hear his clear flute sweet and low.

Follow in the dance he's leading.

Circle 'round the fire's glow.

Come, let's drink the wine he pours us

from the tangled vines that grow,

from the tangled vines that grow,

from the tangled vines that grow.

Listen now, Great Pan he calls us

from the green wood in his grove.

'Neath the waning moon above us,

hear his clear flute sweet and low,

hear his clear flute sweet and low.