Bartlet: Of All the Birds

Lyrics

Of all the birds that I do know Philip my sparrow hath no peer For sit she high, or sit she low Be she far off, or be she near There is no bird so fair, so fine Nor yet so fresh as this of mine For when she once hath felt a fit Philip will cry still: Yet, yet, yet, yet, yet, yet, yet Yet, yet, yet, yet, yet, yet, yet For when she once hath felt a fit Philip will cry still: Yet, yet, yet, yet, yet, yet, yet Yet, yet, yet, yet, yet, yet, yet Come in a morning merrily When Philip hath been lately fed; Or in an evening soberly When Philip list to go to bed It is a heav'n to hear my Phipp How she can chirp with merry lip For when she once hath felt a fit Philip will cry still: Yet, yet, yet, yet, yet, yet, yet Yet, yet, yet, yet, yet, yet, yet For when she once hath felt a fit Philip will cry still: Yet, yet, yet, yet, yet, yet, yet Yet, yet, yet, yet, yet, yet, yet She never wanders far abroad But is at home when I do call; If I command she lays on load With lips, with teeth, with tongue and all She chants, she chirps, she makes such cheer That I believe she hath no peer For when she once hath felt a fit Philip will cry still: Yet, yet, yet, yet, yet, yet, yet Yet, yet, yet, yet, yet, yet, yet For when she once hath felt a fit Philip will cry still: Yet, yet, yet, yet, yet, yet, yet Yet, yet, yet, yet, yet, yet, yet