Excerpt from Notes to Palgrave's Golden Treasury of Songs and Lyrics: Books I.-IV
What bird so sings, yet so does wail? Oh, 'tis the ravished nightingale Jug, jug, jug, jug, tereu, she cries; And still her woes at midnight rise. Brave prick-song Who is't now we hear? None but... the lark, so shrill and clear How at heaven's gates she claps her wings, The morn not waking till she sings Hark, hark, with what a pretty throat Poor Robin red-breast tunes his note Hark how the jolly cuckoos sing Cuckoo, to welcome in the spring C'uckoo, to welcome in the spring 1.
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