What bird so sings, yet so does wail? 
Oh, 'tis the ravished nightingale. 
Jug, jug, jug, jug, tereu, she cries, 
And still her woes at midnight rise. 
Brave prick-song! Who is't now we hear? 
None but the lark so shrill and clear; 
How at heaven's gates she claps her wings, 
The morn not waking till she sings. 
Hark, hark, with what a pretty throat 
Poor robin redbreast tunes his note; 
Hark how the jolly cuckoos sing 
Cuckoo, to welcome in the spring, 
Cuckoo, to welcome in the spring.