Of all the birds that I do know,
Philip my sparrow hath no peer;
For sit she high, or sit she low,
Be she far off or be she near,
There is no bird so fair, so fine,
Nor yet so fresh as this of mine;
Refrain:
For when she once has hath felt a fit,
Philip will cry still: yet yet yet yet.
Come in a morning merrily
When Philip hath been lately fed;
Or in an evening soberly
When Philip list to go to bed;
It is a heaven to hear my Phipp,
How she can chirp with merry lip;
She never wanders far abroad,
But is at home when I do call.
If I command she lays on load
With lips with teeth, with tongue and all.
She chants, she chirps, she makes such cheer,
that I believe she hath no peer.
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