| 原 文 歌 詞 | It was a lover and his lass
It was a lover and his lass,
With a hey, and a ho, and a hey nonny no,
That o’er the green cornfield did pass,
In the spring time, the only pretty ring time,
When birds do sing, hey ding a ding, ding;
Sweet lovers love the spring.
Between the acres of the rye,
With a hey, and a ho, and a hey nonny no,
These pretty country folks would lie,
In the spring time, the only pretty ring time,
When birds do sing, hey ding a ding, ding;
Sweet lovers love the spring
And therefore take the present time
with a hey, and a ho, and a hey nonny no,
For love is crownèd with the prime
In the spring time, the only pretty ring time,
When birds do sing, hey ding a ding, ding;
Sweet lovers love the spring
Draw on, sweet night
Draw on, sweet night, best friend unto those cares
That do arise from painful melancholy.
My life so ill from want of comfort fares,
That unto thee I consecrate it wholly.
Sweet night, draw on,
My griefs when they be told to shades and darkness,
find some ease from paining.
And while thou all in silence dost enfold,
I then shall have best time for my complaining.
Come live with me
(Shepherd)
Come live with me and be my love,
And we will all the pleasures prove.
That valleys, groves,and hills and fields,
Woods or steepy mountains yields.
( Maiden)
If all the world and love were young,
And truth in every shepherd’s tongue,
These pretty pleasures might me move,
To live with thee and be thy love.
(Shepherd)
And we will sit upon the rocks,
Seeing the shepherds feed their flocks,
By shallow rivers, to whose falls.
Melodious birds sing madrigals.
(Maiden)
Time drives the flocks from field to fold,
When rivers rage and rocks grow cold;
And Philomel becometh dumb;
The rest complains of cares to come.
(Shepherd)
And I will make thee beds of roses
And a thousand fragrant posies,
A cap of flowers, and a kirtle
Embroidered all with leaves of myrtle.
(Maiden)
The flow’rs do fade,
And wanton fields
To wayward winter reck’ning yields:
A honey tongue,
A heart of gall,
Is fancy’s spring,
But sorrow’s fall.
(Shepherd)
A gown made of the finest wool,
Which from our pretty lambs we pull;
Fair linèd slippers for the cold,
With buckles of the purest gold.
( Maiden)
Thy gowns, thy shoes, thy beds of roses,
Thy cap, thy kirtle, and thy posies,
Soon break, soon wither,
Soon forgotten,
In folly ripe, in reason rotten.
(Shepherd)
The shepherd swains shall dance and sing
For thy delight each May morning:
If these delights thy mind may move,
Then live with me and be my love.
(Maiden)
If youth could last,
And love still breed,
Had joys no date, nor age no need,
Then these delights my mind might move,
To live with thee and be thy love.
My true love hath my heart
My true love hath my heart, and I have his,
By just exchange one for the other given:
I hold his dear, and mine he cannot miss;
There never was a better bargain driven.
His heart in me keeps me and him in one,
My heart in him his thoughts and senses guides:
He loves my heart, for once it was his own;
I cherish his, because in me it bides.
His heart his wound received from my sight,
My heart was wounded with his wounded heart;
For as from me, on him his hurt did light,
So still me thought in me his hurt did smart.
Both equal hurt,
In this change sought our bliss:
My true love hath my heart, and I have his.
When daisies pied
When daisies pied and violets blue,
And lady-smocks all silver-white
And cuckoo-buds of yellow hue
Do paint the meadows with delight,
The cuckoo then on ev’ry tree,
Mocks married men, for thus sings he,
Cuckoo, cuckoo: O, word of fear,
Unpleasing to a married ear!
When shepherds pipe on oaten straws,
And merry larks are ploughman’s clocks,
When turtles tread, and rooks and daws,
And maidens bleach their summer smocks,
The cuckoo then on every tree,
Mocks married men, for thus sings he,
Cuckoo, cuckoo: O, word of fear,
Unpleasing to a married ear!
Whenas the rye reach to the chin,
And chop-cherry, chop-cherry ripe within,
And strawberries swimming in the cream,
And schoolboys playing in the stream;
Then oh, then oh, my true love said,
Until that time should come again
She, could not live a maid.
Cuckoo, cuckoo: O, word of fear,
Unpleasing to a married ear.
Cuckoo! Loud sing cuckoo!
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