The Pro Musiqua Antiqua

Lyrics
I'll sing you a song of the Cloisters if you hark I'll sing of the Cloisters in Fort Tryon Park Where I used to go in the month of June To listen to the fiddle of an ancient tune At a concert given in the afternoon By the Pro Musica Antiqua The Pro Musica, Pro Musica, the Pro Musica Antiqua It was at precisely such an occasion I recall That I met a young man, like an oak tree, straight and tall As we sat there together, we spoke no word But within our hearts, something stirred As we listened to Ockeghem, Tallis, Purcell and Byrd At the Pro Musica Antiqua The Pro Musica, Pro Musica, the Pro Musica Antiqua He invited me to his flat For a cup of tea and a chat For he said he had a batch of recordings to play Of Dufy and Dupres, so what could I say, but "Yes"! What a fool I was to go What an idiot from tippy-top to toe For behind his face and charming smile Lay a motive base and a manner vile What a fool I was to go! But how could I nonny nonny nonny know? Well he took me to his flat as he had said And he locked the door and he sat on his great double bed As he looked at me with eyes that lied And I knew when I saw that look in his eye That he had no recordings of Dupres and Dufy By the Pro Musica Antiqua The Pro Musica, Pro Musica, the Pro Musica Antiqua Well there I stood I was rooted in my place As I viewed with dread my deceitful lover's face For I knew from the lovesick look in his eye He could lay me low with a single sigh Well he laid me lowand he laid me high At the Pro Musica Antiqua The Pro Musica, Pro Musica, the Pro Musica Antiqua Now if you go to concerts on the grass And you're overfond of Gabrielli brass Or a gay Bonsel, Beware! Beware! Of what may come to pass Of what may come to pass Now the sound of a consort of viols makes me ill And the lute and the zither make me sicker still And every morning at the crowing of the cocks I wash my face and I comb my locks And I say my prayres and I put on pox At the Pro Musica Antiqua The Pro Musica, Pro Musica, the Pro Musica Antiqua Now maidens take fair warning from my tale Beware! Beware of the music-loving male You may go to the Cloisters if you choose And find enchantment in the muse But I hate to tell you what you can lose At the Pro Musica Antiqua The Pro Musica, Pro Musica, the Pro Musica Antiqua (From a 1955 Julius Monk Revue. Julius Monk was a New York Cabaret impressario)
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Credits
- Writers
- Jonathan Tunick