Heigh ho! chill go to plough no more! Sit down and take thy rest; Of golden groats I have full store To flaunt it with the best. But I love and I love, and who thinks you? The finest lass that e’er you knew, Which makes me sing when I should cry Heigh ho! for love I die.
Songs and Psalms
by John Mundy (1550 - 1630)
?. Heigh ho! chill go to plough no more!  [sung text checked 1 time]
Language: English
Authorship:
- by Anonymous / Unidentified Author
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Lyrics from the Song-Books of the Elizabethan Age, ed. by A. H. Bullen, London, John C. Nimmo, 1887, page 38.Researcher for this text: Emily Ezust [Administrator]
?. My prime of youth is but a frost of cares  [sung text checked 1 time]
Language: English
My prime of youth is but a frost of cares,
My feast of joy is but a dish of pain,
My crop of corn is but a field of tares,
And all my good is but vain hope of gain;
My life is fled, and yet I saw no sun;
And now I live, and now my life is done.
[My tale was heard, and yet it was not told;
My fruit is fallen and yet my leaves are green;
My youth is spent and yet I am not old;
I saw the world and yet I was not seen;
My thread is cut, and yet it was not spun;
And now I live, and now my life is done.]1
[ ... ]
Authorship:
- by Chidiock Tichbourne (1558? - 1586), "On the Eve of His Execution", subtitle: "Written the night before he was beheaded", written 1586
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According to Lyrics from the Song-Books of the Elizabethan Age, ed. by A. H. Bullen, London, John C. Nimmo, 1887, page 80, Mundy replaces the second stanza with the following:The Spring is past, and yet it hath not sprung! The fruit is dead, and yet the leaves be green! My youth is gone, and yet I am but young! I saw the World and yet I was not seen! My thread is cut, and yet it is not spun! And now I live, and now my life is done.
Researcher for this text: Emily Ezust [Administrator]
?. In midst of woods or pleasant grove  [sung text checked 1 time]
Language: English
In midst of woods or pleasant grove, Where all sweet birds do sing, Methought I heard so rare a sound Which made the heavens to ring. The charm was good, the noise full sweet, Each bird did play his part; And I admired to hear the same, Joy sprang into my heart. The black bird made the sweetest sound, Whose tunes did far excel; Full pleasantly, and most profound Was all things placed well. Thy pretty tunes, mine own sweet bird, Done with so good a grace, Extolls thy name, prefers the same Abroad in every place. Thy music grave, bedeckèd well With sundry points of skill, Bewrays thy knowledge excellent Ingrafted in thy will. My tongue shall speak, my pen shall write In praise of thee to tell; The sweetest bird that ever was, In friendly sort farewell.
Authorship:
- by Anonymous / Unidentified Author
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Lyrics from the Song-Books of the Elizabethan Age, ed. by A. H. Bullen, London, John C. Nimmo, 1887, pages 54-55.Researcher for this text: Emily Ezust [Administrator]
?. Were I a king, I might command content  [sung text checked 1 time]
Language: English
Were I a king, I might command content; Were I obscure, unknown should be my cares: And were I dead, no thoughts should me torment, Nor words, nor wrongs, nor loves, nor hopes, nor fears. A doubtful choice, of three things one to crave; A kingdom, or a cottage, or a grave.
Authorship:
- by Anonymous / Unidentified Author
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Lyrics from the Song-Books of the Elizabethan Age, ed. by A. H. Bullen, London, John C. Nimmo, 1887, page 151.Researcher for this text: Emily Ezust [Administrator]
Total word count: 429