My vather he gave me a hog,
My mouther she gave me a zow;
I have a God-vather dwels thereby,
And he on me bestowed a plow.
Chorus. He has a God-vather dwells thereby,
And he on him bestowed a plough.
One time I gave thee a paper of pins,
Another time a tawdry-lace;
And if thou wilt not grant me love,
In truth ich die bevore thy face.
Chorus. And if thou wilt not grant his love,
In truth he’ll die bevore thy vace.
Ich have been twice our Whitson-lord,
Ich have had ladies many vair,
And eke thou hast my heart in hold
And in my mind zeems passing rare.
Chorus. And eke thou hast his heart in hold
And in his mind seems passing rare.
Ich will put on my best white slops
And ich will wear my yellow hose,
And on my head a good grey hat,
And in’t ich stick a lovely rose.
Chorus. And on his head a good grey hat,
And in’t he’ll stick a lovely rose.
Wherefore cease off, make no delay,
And if you’ll love me, love me now;
Or else ich zeek zome oderwhere,
For I cannot come every day to woo.
Chorus. Or else he’ll zeek zome oderwhere,
For he cannot come every day to woo.
From William Byrd’s Psalms, Sonnets, and Songs of Sadness and Piety, 1588.
I joy not in no earthly bliss,
I wish but what I have at will,
I wander not to seek for more;
I like the plain, I climb no hill;
In greatest storms I sit on shore
And laugh at them that toil in vain
To get what must be lost again.
I kiss not where I wish to kill;
I feign not love where most I hate;
I break no sleep to win my will;
I wait not at the mighty’s gate;
I scorn no poor, nor fear no rich;
I feel no want, nor have too much.
The court and cart I like nor loath;
Extremes are counted worst of all;
The golden mean between them both
Doth surest sit and fears no fall.
This is my choice: for why? I find
No wealth is like the quiet mind.