Classic Poem

Of all the birds that I do know,
Philip my sparrow hath no peer;
For sit she high or lie 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.
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 Phip,
How she can chirp with cherry lip.
She never wanders far abroad,
But is at hand 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.
And yet, besides all this good sport,
My Philip can both sing and dance,
With new found toys of sundry sort
My Philip can both prick and prance;
And if you say but, Fend cut, Phip!
Lord, how the peat will turn and skip!
Her feathers are so fresh of hue,
And so well preenën every day,
She lacks none oil, I warrant you,
To trim her tail both trick and gay;
And though her mouth be somewhat wide,
Her tongue is sweet and short beside.
And for the rest I dare compare,
She is both tender, sweet and soft;
She never lacketh dainty fare,
But is well fed and feedeth oft;
For if my Philip have lust to eat,
I warrant you, Phip lacks no meat.
And then if that her meat be good,
And such as like do love alway,
She will lay lips thereon, by the rood,
And see that none be cast away;
For when she once hath felt a fit,
Philip will cry still, Yit, yit, yit!
And to tell truth, he were to blame
Which had so fine a bird as she,
To make him all this goodly game
Without suspect or jealousy;
He were a churl and knew no good,
Would see her faint for lack of food.
Wherefore I sing, and ever shall,
To praise as I have often proved,
There is no bird amongst them all
So worthy for to be beloved.
Let others praise what bird they will,
Sweet Philip shall be my bird still.