Of all the birds (John Bartlet): Difference between revisions
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Be she far off, or be she near, | Be she far off, or be she near, | ||
There is no bird so fair, so fine, | There is no bird so fair, so fine, | ||
Nor yet so fresh as this of mine | Nor yet so fresh as this of mine. | ||
For when she once hath felt the fit, | For when she once hath felt the fit, | ||
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Come in a morning merrily | Come in a morning merrily | ||
When Philip hath been lately fed; | When Philip hath been lately fed; | ||
Or in an evening soberly | Or in an evening soberly, | ||
When Philip list to go to bed | When Philip list to go to bed. | ||
It is a heaven to hear my Phipp, | It is a heaven to hear my Phipp, | ||
How she can chirp with merry lip | How she can chirp with merry lip. | ||
She never wanders far abroad, | She never wanders far abroad, |
Revision as of 17:48, 30 April 2012
Music files
ICON | SOURCE |
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File details | |
Help |
- CPDL #09186: NoteWorthy Composer
- Editor: Brian Russell (submitted 2005-08-30). Score information: A4, 4 pages, 24 kB Copyright: Personal
- Edition notes:
- Editor: Christoph König (submitted 2003-08-19). Score information: A4, 2 pages, 32 kB Copyright: Personal
- Edition notes: Scorch file also available, SATB, Tenor parts sound an octave lower than written.
- CPDL #05328: Encore
- Editor: Bernard Delhez (submitted 2003-07-09). Score information: A4, 2 pages, 72 kB Copyright: CPDL
- Edition notes: Encore file is zipped.
- Editor: Gordon J. Callon (submitted 2003-07-03). Score information: Letter, 3 pages, 80 kB Copyright: Personal
- Edition notes: EPS/Postscript format
General Information
Title: Of all the birds
Composer: John Bartlet
Number of voices: 4vv Voicing: SATB
Genre: Secular, Madrigal
Language: English
Instruments: Lute
Published: A Booke of Ayres, no. 10 (1606)
Description:
External websites:
Text and translations
English text
Of all the birds that I do know,
Philip my sparrow hath no peer.
For sit she high, or sit she low,
Be she far off, or be she near,
There is no bird so fair, so fine,
Nor yet so fresh as this of mine.
For when she once hath felt the fit,
Philip will cry still:
yet, yet, yet, yet, yet, yet, yet,
yet, yet, yet, yet, yet, yet, yet.
Come in a morning merrily
When Philip hath been lately fed;
Or in an evening soberly,
When Philip list to go to bed.
It is a heaven to hear my Phipp,
How she can chirp with merry lip.
She never wanders far abroad,
But is at home when I do call;
If I command she lays on low
With lips, with teeth, with tongue and all.
She chants, she chirps, she makes such cheer,
That I believe she hath no peer.