The Pro Musiqua Antiqua

I'll sing you a song of the Cloisters if you hark
I'll sing of the Cloisters in Fort Tryon Park
Where I used to go in the month of June
To listen to the fiddle of an ancient tune
At a concert given in the afternoon
By the Pro Musica Antiqua
The Pro Musica, Pro Musica, the Pro Musica Antiqua

It was at precisely such an occasion I recall
That I met a young man, like an oak tree, straight and tall
As we sat there together, we spoke no word
But within our hearts, something stirred
As we listened to Juakegan(?), Talis, Purcell and Byrd
At the Pro Musica Antiqua
The Pro Musica, Pro Musica, the Pro Musica Antiqua

He invited me to his flat
For a cup of tea and a chat
For he said he had a batch of recordings to play
Of Dufy and Dupres, so what could I say, but "Yes"!
What a fool I was to go
What an idiot from tippy-top to toe
For behind his face and charming smile
Lay a motive base and a manner vile
What a fool I was to go!
But how could I nonny nonny nonny know?

Well he took me to his flat as he had said
And he locked the door and he sat on his great double bed
As he looked at me with eyes that lied
And I knew when I saw that look in his eye
That he had no recordings of Dupres and Dufy
By the Pro Musica Antiqua
The Pro Musica, Pro Musica, the Pro Musica Antiqua

Well there I stood I was rooted in my place
As I viewed with dread my deceitful lover's face
For I knew from the lovesick look in his eye
He could lay me low with a single sigh
Well he laid me lowand he laid me high
At the Pro Musica Antiqua
The Pro Musica, Pro Musica, the Pro Musica Antiqua

Now if you go to concerts on the grass
And you're overfond of Gabrielli brass
Or a gay Bonsel, Beware! Beware!
Of what may come to pass
Of what may come to pass

Now the sound of a consort of viols makes me ill
And the lute and the zither make me sicker still
And every morning at the crowing of the cocks
I wash my face and I comb my locks
And I say my prayres and I put on pox
At the Pro Musica Antiqua
The Pro Musica, Pro Musica, the Pro Musica Antiqua

Now maidens take fair warning from my tale
Beware! Beware of the music-loving male
You may go to the Cloisters if you choose
And find enchantment in the muse
But I hate to tell you what you can lose
At the Pro Musica Antiqua
The Pro Musica, Pro Musica, the Pro Musica Antiqua

(From a 1955 Julius Monk Revue. Julius Monk was a New York Cabaret impressario)