by Anonymous / Unidentified Author
Hark! Wot ye what?
Language: English
Hark! Hark! wot ye what? nay faith, and shall I tell? I am afraid To die a maid. And then lead apes in hell. Oh, it makes me sigh and sob with inward grief; But if I can But get a man, He'll yield me some relief. Oh, oh! it is strange how Nature works with me; My body's spent And I lament Mine own great folly. Oh, it makes me sigh, and pour forth floods of tears. Alas, poor elf, None but thyself Would live having such cares. Oh, now I see that Fortune frowns on me. By this good light I have been ripe. Oh, it makes me sigh, and sure it will me kill. When I should sleep I lie and weep. Feeding on sorrows still. I, I must confess as maids have virtue store, Live honest still Against our wills, More fools we are therefore. Oh, it makes me sigh, yet hope doth still me good For if I can But get a man, With him I'll spend my blood.
Authorship:
- by Anonymous / Unidentified Author [author's text not yet checked against a primary source]
Musical settings (art songs, Lieder, mélodies, (etc.), choral pieces, and other vocal works set to this text), listed by composer (not necessarily exhaustive):
- by Robert Jones (fl. 1597-1615), "Hark! Wot ye what?" [text verified 1 time]
Researcher for this page: Ross Klatte
This text was added to the website: 2014-07-10
Line count: 31
Word count: 174