Classic Poem

A Bonny, bonny bird I had,
A bird that was my marrow;
A bird whose pastime made me glad,
And Philip, 'twas my sparrow.
A pretty play-fere; chirp it would,
And hop, and fly to fist,
Keep cut, as 'twere a usurer's gold,
And bill me when I list.
“Philip, Philip, Philip” it cries,
But he is fled, and my joy dies.

But were my Philip come again,
I would not change my Love
For Juno's bird with gaudy train,
Nor yet for Venus' dove.
Nay, would my Philip come again,
I would not change my state,
For his great name sake's wealth of Spain,
To be another's mate.
“Philip, Philip, Philip” it cries,
But he is fled, and my joy dies.