The Weeders (Thomas Arne): Difference between revisions

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*{{NewWork|2011-08-20}} {{CPDLno|24201}} [http://www.notamos.co.uk/145364.shtml {{net}}]  
*{{CPDLno|24201}} [http://www.notamos.co.uk/145364.shtml {{net}}]  
{{Editor|Christopher Shaw|2011-08-20}}{{ScoreInfo|A4|12|120}}{{Copy|Personal}}
{{Editor|Christopher Shaw|2011-08-20}}{{ScoreInfo|A4|12|120}}{{Copy|Personal}}
:'''Edition notes:''' The current edition eschews the catch format, and is written out in full. Please click on the link for preview/playback. Free registration at external website required for PDF download.
:'''Edition notes:''' The current edition eschews the catch format, and is written out in full. Please click on the link for preview/playback. Free registration at external website required for PDF download.

Revision as of 08:01, 18 November 2011

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  • CPDL #24201:  Network.png
Editor: Christopher Shaw (submitted 2011-08-20).   Score information: A4, 12 pages, 120 kB   Copyright: Personal
Edition notes: The current edition eschews the catch format, and is written out in full. Please click on the link for preview/playback. Free registration at external website required for PDF download.

General Information

Title: Weeders, The
Composer: Thomas Arne

Number of voices: 4vv   Voicing: TTTT

Genre: SecularPartsong

Language: English
Instruments: a cappella
Published:

Description:

External websites:

Original text and translations

English.png English text

Joan, marching forth with a rusty old knife,
Tucked up her tail, in the garden to weed;
Ralph, who an hour had been toiling for life,
Called on the devil to quicken her speed.
"Rot you", said he, "where the deuce have you been?
Plague on your conscience, must I work alone?
Down with that thistle, those coleworts between:
Mind, you old whore, or I'll tip you a stone".
"Oh!", she cried out, with a terrible squall,
"I've had such a prick as will make me run mad:
Pox on this thistle, the garden and all;
No sting of a hornet was ever so bad".
"Plague on your bawling! what ails you? Come here;
No prick could have made you so loudly to roar;
'Tis shamming the cripple, for hark in your ear,
You never yet squeaked, at a hundred or more".