Madrigals of five and six parts

Lady the birds right fairly
Are singing ever early
The lark, the thrush, the nightingale
The make-sport cuckoo and the quail.
These sing of love, then why sleep ye,
To love your sleep it may not be.

Now let us make a merry greeting
And thank God Cupid for our meeting:
My heart is full of joy and pleasure
Since thou art here, mine only treasure.
Now will we dance and sport and play
And sing a merry roundelay.

Cold Winter's ice is fled and gone,
And Summer brags on every tree,
The red-breast peeps amidst the throng
Of wood-born birds that wanton be:
Each one forgets what they have been,
And so doth Phyllis, Summer’s queen.

Why are you Ladies staying,
And your Lords gone a-maying?
Run apace and meet them
And with your garlands greet them.
’Twere pity they should miss you,
For they will sweetly kiss you.