Come bind my hair (Jonathan Battishill): Difference between revisions
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==Music files== | ==Music files== | ||
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*{{PostedDate|2021-09-29}} {{CPDLno|65948}} [[Media:Come_bind_my_hair_Battishill.pdf|{{pdf}}]] [[Media:Come_bind_my_hair_Battishill.mid|{{mid}}]] [[Media:Come_bind_my_hair_Battishill.mxl|{{mp3}}]] [[Media:Come_bind_my_hair_Battishill.capx|{{Capx}}]] | |||
{{Editor|James Gibb|2021-09-29}}{{ScoreInfo|A4|7|264}}{{Copy|CPDL}} | |||
:{{EdNotes|Alto part in treble clef, rather than octave below treble clef.}} | |||
*{{PostedDate|2021-09-13}} {{CPDLno|65769}} [http://www.notamos.co.uk/145323.shtml {{net}}] | *{{PostedDate|2021-09-13}} {{CPDLno|65769}} [http://www.notamos.co.uk/145323.shtml {{net}}] | ||
{{Editor|Christopher Shaw|2021-09-13}}{{ScoreInfo|A4|7|398}}{{Copy|Creative Commons Attribution Share Alike}} | {{Editor|Christopher Shaw|2021-09-13}}{{ScoreInfo|A4|7|398}}{{Copy|Creative Commons Attribution Share Alike}} | ||
Revision as of 08:18, 29 September 2021
Music files
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- (Posted 2021-09-29) CPDL #65948:
- Editor: James Gibb (submitted 2021-09-29). Score information: A4, 7 pages, 264 kB Copyright: CPDL
- Edition notes: Alto part in treble clef, rather than octave below treble clef.
- (Posted 2021-09-13) CPDL #65769:
- Editor: Christopher Shaw (submitted 2021-09-13). Score information: A4, 7 pages, 398 kB Copyright: CC BY SA
- Edition notes: Please click on the link for preview/playback/PDF download.
General Information
Title: Come bind my hair
Composer: Jonathan Battishill
Lyricist: Thomas Mozeen
Number of voices: 3vv Voicing: TTB
Genre: Secular, Glee
Language: English
Instruments: A cappella
First published: 1771
Description: This glee gained a Catch Club prize medal in 1771.
External websites:
Original text and translations
English text
Come bind my hair, ye woodnymphs fair,
With ivy wreaths, come bind my brow.
Hence grief and woe and pain and care,
To Bacchus I'll devote my vows.
Dull cynic rules are fit for schools;
Let those digest the food who can;
But love and wine shall still be mine
Oh let me laugh out all my span.
No wounds, O love, e'er let me feel,
But such as spring from eyes and shapes;
A curse on those that come by steel,
I hate all blood but blood of grapes.
Then fill up high the bowl
That I may drink and laugh at fools of sense;
Why need we fear to want next year
'Twill be all one an hundred hence.