Peter Warlock - To the Memory of a Great Singer
When the right man rings them
Fair the fall of songs
When the singer sings them
Still are they carolled and said -
On wings they are carried -
After the singer is dead
And the maker buried
Low as the singer lies
In the field of heather
Songs of his fashion bring
The swains together
And when the west is red
With the sunset embers
The lover lingеrs and sings
And the maid remembеrs
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Peter Warlock - And wilt thou leave me thus?
And wilt thou leave me thus! Say nay, say nay, for shame! -- To save thee from the blame Of all my grief and grame And wilt thou leave me thus? Say nay! say nay!
Peter Warlock - Sigh No More, Ladies
Sigh no more, ladies, sigh no more Men were deceivers ever; One foot in sea and one on shore; To one thing constant never Then sigh not so But let them go And be you
Peter Warlock - Sweet and Twenty
O mistress mine, where are you roaming? O stay and hear, your true love's coming That can sing both high and low Trip no further, pretty sweeting; Journeys end in
Peter Warlock - Tyrley Tyrlow
About the field they piped right So merrily the shepherds began to blow Adown from heaven that is so high Tyrley, tyrlow, tyrley, terlow, tyrley, tyrlow Of angels there came
Peter Warlock - The Sycamore Tree
As I sat under the sycamore tree A sycamore tree, a sycamore tree I looked me out upon the sea A Christmas day in the morning I saw three ships a-sailing there
Peter Warlock - Adam lay ybounden
Adam lay ybounden Bounden in a bond: Four thousand winter Thought he not too long 2And all was for an apple An apple that he took As clerkès finden Written in
Peter Warlock - Rutterkin
Rutterkin is come unto our town In a cloak without coat or gown Save ragged hood to cover his crown Like a Rutterkin Hoyda, hoyda, jolly Rutterkin! Rutterkin can speak
Peter Warlock - Roister Doister
I mun be married a Sunday Whosoever shall come that way I mun be married a Sunday Roister Doister is my name A lusty brute I am the same I mun be married a Sunday
Peter Warlock - Spring
Spring, the sweet Spring, is the year's pleasant king; Then blooms each thing, then maids dance in a ring Cold doth not sting, the pretty birds do sing Cuckoo, jug-jug, pu-we,
Peter Warlock - Lusty Juventus
In an arbour green asleep whereas I lay The birds sang sweet in the middes of the day: I dreamed fast of mirth and play; In youth is pleasure, in youth is pleasure Methought
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Peter Warlock
Biography
Most of Warlock’s music is for the human voice, either solo or choral, although his orchestral Capriol Suite is one of his most popular works. Heseltine died as a result of asphyxiation from coal gas, a probable suicide.