Part 5 — SONGS

With one man, with two men, we mow the hay to-gether; ... With three men, with four men, we mow the hay togeth-er.... My four, my three, my two, my one, no more.... We mow the hay and rake the hay and car-ry it a-way to-geth-er.

One morning last winter to Holm bank there came A brave, no-ble sportsman, Squire Sands was his name, Came a hunt-ing the fox, bold Reynard must die, And he flung out his train and be-gan for to cry, Tally ho! ... tally ho! ... Hark, for-ward a-way, tal-ly ho....

My cloth-ing was once of the lin-sey wool-sey fine, ... My tail it grew at length ... my coat did likewise shine. But now I’m growing old my beauty does de-cay. My master frowns up-on me; one day I heard him say, Poor old horse, poor old horse.

Mary, come into the field ... To work a-long of I.... Digging up man-gel wor-zels, For they be a-growing high.... Dig ’em up by the roots, dig ’em up by the roots, Put in your spade, don’t be a-fraid, Dig ’em up by the roots....

Las! Il n’a nul mal qui n’a le mal d’a-mour! Las! Il n’a nu! mal qui n’a le mal d’a-mour! La fill-e du roi est au pied de la tour, qui pleure et sou-pir-e et mène grand dou-lour. Las! Il n’a nul mal qui n’a le mal d’a-mour. Las! Il n’a nul mal qui n’a le mal d’a-mour. Le bon roi lui dit: Ma fille, qu’avez-vous? Voulez-vous un mari? Hé-las oui, mon sei-gnoux! Las! Il n’a nul mal qui n’a le mal d’a-mour. Las! Il n’a nul mal qui n’a le mal d’a-mour.