Kemp's Ayre
When griping griefs the heart would wound
And doleful dumps the heart oppress
Then music with her silver sound
Is wont with speed to give redress.
Of troubled mind for every sore
Sweet music hath a salve therefore.
In joy it makes our mirth abound
In grief it cheers our heavy sprites
The careful head relief hath found
By music's pleasant sweet delights
Our senses (What should I say more?)
Are subject unto music's law.
(Fanfare)
Now Master Shakerags, say farewell!.
No more shall you hear my drum and bell.
Away with your Dogberry fiddle-de dee
No more of a fool shall I play for thee.
You've used me ill, you've used me poor,
But I wager you never shall use me more.
(The following should be practised in two antiphonal groups)
Idle creature hideous object
Red-tailed bumble-bee venomous fool
Prating peasant Lapland sorcerer
Mere anatomy quartered slave
Measureless liar croaking raven
Peacock pintpot
Ticklebrain younker
Smiling pickthanks fat-brained follower
Raw-boned rascal shallow jester
Peasant foot-boy harebrained slave
Enough! My heart is cork and my heels feathers!
So that methinks I could fly to Rome with a mortar on my head.
My Tabrer strikes his huntsup. I must to Norwich!
Farewell, Master Shakebottom!
Kemp's Morris
One morning down in London town,
Hey down merrily we sing,
Stood William Kemp of great renown,
And the Lenten bells did ring.
Good Thomas Sly with his Tabourer's drum,
Good William Bee as his servant come,
And it's off together they would go, (clap,clap)
Off together they would go, (clap, clap)
With a pint of ale and the wind at their tail
All heading for Norwich city.
Beat the drum good Thomas Sly
See the fields go rolling by
Dance it here, dance it there,
Dance in every village square,
Bold William Kemp is second to none
And he'll dance to Norwich before he's done
By moonshine bright and sunny day,
Hey down merrily we sing,
Bold William danced along the way
And the Lenten bells did ring.
From London town he did set off straight
And he danced till he reached the Norwich Gate
Let Shakespeare find another fool (clap, clap)
Shakespeare find another fool
Though the rain be wet he will get there yet,
And Morris though Norwich city.
Beat the drum good Thomas Sly
See the fields go rolling by
Dance it here, dance it there,
Dance in every village square,
Bold William Kemp is second to none
And he'll dance to Norwich before he's done
animated mice © 2001 Line Gisnås
