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- # A
A S it fell upon a Day,
In the merry Month of May,
Sitting in a pleasant shade,
Which a groue of Myrtles made,
Beaffles dirt leape, and Birds did sing,
Trees did grow, and Plants did spring;
Every thing did banish more,
Save the Nightingale alone,
Shee! poore Bird, as all tochene,
Leand her breath vpuff a tharne,
And there sung the dolchift Dirty,
That to heare it was great Pity,
Fit, lie, lie, now would the cry
Teru, Teru, by and by:
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