John Wilbye
John Wilbye
John Wilbye
John Wilbye
John Wilbye
John Wilbye
John Wilbye
John Wilbye
John Wilbye
John Wilbye
John Wilbye
John Wilbye
John Wilbye
John Wilbye
John Wilbye
John Wilbye
John Wilbye
John Wilbye
John Wilbye
John Wilbye
John Wilbye
John Wilbye
John Wilbye
John Wilbye
John Wilbye
John Wilbye
John Wilbye
John Wilbye
John Wilbye
John Wilbye
John Wilbye
As fair as morn, as fresh as May
A pretty grace in saying nay
Smil'st thou sweetheart?
Then sing and say, Ta na na no
But O! that love enchanting eye
Lo, here my doubtful doom I try
Tell me my sweet, live I or die?
She smiles, fa la la la
Ah, she frowns, Ay me, I die
As fair as morn was written by John Wilbye.