Nay, now you are too flat,
And mar the concord with too harsh a descant.

Nay, now you are too flat,
And mar the concord with too harsh a descant.

His tongue is now a stringless instrument;
Words, life, and all, old Lancaster hath spent.

His tongue is now a stringless instrument;
Words, life, and all, old Lancaster hath spent.

Hey! Mr. Tamborine Man, play a song for me.
I'm not sleepy and there is no place I'm going read more

Hey! Mr. Tamborine Man, play a song for me.
I'm not sleepy and there is no place I'm going to.

They sing, they will pay.
[Fr., Ils chantent, ils payeront.]

They sing, they will pay.
[Fr., Ils chantent, ils payeront.]

The tenor's voice is spoilt by affectation,
And for the bass, the beast can only bellow;
In read more

The tenor's voice is spoilt by affectation,
And for the bass, the beast can only bellow;
In fact, he had no singing education,
An ignorant, noteless, timeless, tuneless fellow.

Every night he comes
With musics of all sorts, and songs composed
To her unworthiness. It nothing read more

Every night he comes
With musics of all sorts, and songs composed
To her unworthiness. It nothing steads us
To chide him from our eaves, for he persists
As if his life lay on't.

Who, as they sung, would take the prison'd soul
And lap it in Elysium.

Who, as they sung, would take the prison'd soul
And lap it in Elysium.

That which is not worth speaking they sing.
[Fr., Ce qui ne vaut pas la peine d'etre dit, on read more

That which is not worth speaking they sing.
[Fr., Ce qui ne vaut pas la peine d'etre dit, on le chante.]

At every close she made, th' attending throng
Replied, and bore the burden of the song:
So read more

At every close she made, th' attending throng
Replied, and bore the burden of the song:
So just, so small, yet in so sweet a note,
It seemed the music melted in the throat.