Of all the birds that I do know - The King's Singers

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

For when she once hath felt a fit

Philip will cry still:

Yet, yet, yet, yet, yet, yet, yet

Yet, yet, yet, yet, yet, yet, yet

For when she once hath felt a fit

Philip will cry still:

Yet, yet, yet, yet, yet, yet, yet

Yet, yet, yet, 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 heav’n to hear my Phipp

How she can chirp with merry lip

For when she once hath felt a fit

Philip will cry still:

Yet, yet, yet, yet, yet, yet, yet

Yet, yet, yet, yet, yet, yet, yet

For when she once hath felt a fit

Philip will cry still:

Yet, yet, yet, yet, yet, yet, yet

Yet, yet, yet, yet, yet, yet, yet

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

For when she once hath felt a fit

Philip will cry still:

Yet, yet, yet, yet, yet, yet, yet

Yet, yet, yet, yet, yet, yet, yet

For when she once hath felt a fit

Philip will cry still:

Yet, yet, yet, yet, yet, yet, yet

Yet, yet, yet, yet, yet, yet, yet