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Thomas Billington (arr.)
(1754 - ?1832)
My sheep I've forsaken
(S.A.T.T.B. + reduction)
Full score (PDF), €0.20 for unlimited copies Buy this item(1754 - ?1832)
My sheep I've forsaken
(S.A.T.T.B. + reduction)
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Billington issued two sets of "glees selected from the Scotch songs" in the late 1780s, to satisfy two contemporary enthusiasms: that for mixed sex social music, and that for all things North-British. The current arrangement comes from the second set.
These glees were selected from a repertoire of well-known Scottish songs that had been anthologised in the previous seventy years. Verses that are not underlaid were not included by Billington, and have been imported from external sources.
These glees were selected from a repertoire of well-known Scottish songs that had been anthologised in the previous seventy years. Verses that are not underlaid were not included by Billington, and have been imported from external sources.
Lyrics: Sir Gilbert Elliott
My sheep I've forsaken and left my sheephook,
And all the gay haunts of my youth I've forsook;
No more for Aminta fresh garlands I wove;
For ambition, I said, would soon cure one of love.
O what had my youth with ambition to do?
Why left I Aminta, why broke I my vow?
O give me my sheep and my sheephook restore,
And I'll wander from love and Aminta no more.
Through regions remote in vain I do rove,
And bid the wide ocean secure me of love;
O fool! to imagine that ought could subdue
A love so well founded, a passion so true.
O what had my youth etc.
Alas, 'tis too late at thy fate to repine!
Poor shepherd! Aminta no more can be thine:
Thy tears are all fruitless, thy wishes are vain;
The moments neglected return not again.
O what shall my youth etc.
My sheep I've forsaken and left my sheephook,
And all the gay haunts of my youth I've forsook;
No more for Aminta fresh garlands I wove;
For ambition, I said, would soon cure one of love.
O what had my youth with ambition to do?
Why left I Aminta, why broke I my vow?
O give me my sheep and my sheephook restore,
And I'll wander from love and Aminta no more.
Through regions remote in vain I do rove,
And bid the wide ocean secure me of love;
O fool! to imagine that ought could subdue
A love so well founded, a passion so true.
O what had my youth etc.
Alas, 'tis too late at thy fate to repine!
Poor shepherd! Aminta no more can be thine:
Thy tears are all fruitless, thy wishes are vain;
The moments neglected return not again.
O what shall my youth etc.