THE
Woody Choristers:
OR,
The BIRDS of HARMONY.
In TWO PARTS
When Birds could speak, and Women they
Had neither good nor bad to say,
The pretty Birds then filld with Pain,
Did to each other thus Complain.
To the Tune of, The Bird-catchers Delight, etc.
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OH! says the Cuckow, loud and stout,
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I fly the Country round about,
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While other Birds my young Ones feed,
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And I myself do stand in Need.
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Then says the Sparrow on her Nest,
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I lovd a Lass, but it was in Jest;
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And ever since that self same Thing,
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I made a Vow I neer would sing.
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In came the Robin, and thus he said,
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I lovd once a well-favourd Maid;
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Her Be[a]uty kindled such a Spark,
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That on her B[r]east I bear the Mark.
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Then said the Lark upon the Grass,
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I lovd once a Country Las;
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She would not hear her true Love sing,
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Although his Voice would please a King.
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Then said the Black-bird as she fled,
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I lovd one, but she is dead;
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And ever since my Love I lack,
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This is the Cause I mourn in Black.
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Oh! said the bonny Nightingale,
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Then must I end my mournful Tale;
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Whilst others sing I sit and mourn,
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Leaning my Breast against a Thorn.
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Oh says the Water-wagtail then,
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I neer shall be my self again;
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I lovd one but could not prevail,
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This is the Cause I wag my Tail.
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Then said the party-colourd Jay,
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My dearest Love is fled away;
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And Remembrance of my Dear,
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A Feather of evry Sort I wear.
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Then said the Leather-winged Batt,
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Mind but my Tail, and Ill tell you what
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Is the Cause that I fly by Night,
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Because I lost my Hearts Delight.
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Then said the Greenfinch, as she flew,
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I lovd one that provd untrue,
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And sicne she can no more be seen,
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Like a Love-sick Maid I turn to Green.
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Then did the chatterring Swallow,
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My Love shes fled, but I would not follow,
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And now upon the Chimney high,
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I sing forth my poor Melody.
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Oh! says the Owl, my Love is gone,
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That I so much did doat upon;
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I know not how my Love to follow,
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But after her I hoop and hollow.
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Then says the Lapwing as she flies,
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I search the Meadows and the Skies;
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But cannot find my Love again,
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So about I fly in deadly Pain.
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Then said the Thrush, I squeak and sing,
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Which doth to me no Comfort bring;
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For oftentimes I at Midnight
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Record my Love and Hearts Delight.
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The Canary Bird she then came in,
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To tell her Tale she did begin;
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I am of my dear Love bereft,
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So I have my own Country left.
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The Goldfinch then began to speak,
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For Love, quoth she, my Heart will break,
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I grieve so for my only dear,
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I sing but two Months in the Year.
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Then quoth the Magpy, I was crossd
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In Love and now my Dear is lost;
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And wanting of my Hearts Delight,
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I mourn for her in Black and White.
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Oh! says the Rook, and eke the Crow,
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The Reason why in Black we go,
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It is, because we are forsook,
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Come pity us poor Crow and Rook.
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The Bulfinch he was in a Rage,
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And nothing could his Wrath asswage;
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So then in Woods he would not dwell,
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But spends his Time in a loansome Cell.
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Thus you have heard the Birds Complaint,
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Taking Delight in their Restraint;
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Let this to all a pattern be,
For to Delight in Constancy.
The SECOND PART.
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ONCE I down lay,
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One Morning in May,
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My Hands they being coupled fast;
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My Heart did rejoice,
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To hear the sweet Voice
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Of the Birds singing as they did pass.
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First the Nightingale,
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Told all in good Part,
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In the following Words most plain;
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Prithee kind Heart,
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Take all in good Part,
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And love when thou art lovd again.
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Then spoke Titty Tom,
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Theres many a Man,
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Whose Notes chnge nine Times in a D[ay]
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Oh! then said ths Reed,
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Theres many Women,
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That do change as often as they;
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Then replyed the Crow,
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If it always be so,
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Upon Proof I will forfeit my Head;
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For a Man so unjust,
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No Woman can trust
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Until the same Day he be dead.
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Then spoke the Magpy,
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Give me Reason why,
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You so rashly judge of all Men;
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To which said the Lark,
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I do speak from my Heart,
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That Woman are far worse then them.
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Softly spoke the Dove,
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I rejoced once my Love,
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My Love she was loving and kind,
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Oh! replyd the Rook,
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Ill be sworn on a Book,
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Such another yon never will find.
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Then spoke the hoarse Jay,
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I care not one Straw,
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Since that I can chuse my own Mate:
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Replyd the old Thrush,
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You shall have her in a Bush,
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Or take her in a lower Rate.
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Oh! then said the Duck,
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May you have better Luck,
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Than a Man that once I did know;
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When he was from Home,
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Came another ins Room,
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Since we frequently hear the Cuckow.
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