Copyright © 2001 by Paul Howarth
All Rights Reserved

There sits a bird on yonder tree,
More fond than cushat dove;
There sits a bird on yonder tree
And sings to me of love.
And sings to me of love.
Oh! stoop thee from thine eyrie down;
And nestle thee near my heart.
For the moments fly,
And the hour is nigh,
When thou and I must part,
My love! my love!
When thou and I must part.

Oh! sweet is the breath of morn,
When the sun's first beams appear.
Oh! sweet is the shepherd's strain,
When it dies on the list'ning ear;
It dies on the list'ning ear,
And sweet the soft voice which speaks
The wanderer's welcome home;
But sweeter far,
By yon pale star,
With our true love thus to roam,
My love! My love!
With our own true love to roam!

By Arthur Sullivan
Generated by NoteWorthy Composer

My Love
Staff-1
Vocal
Right Hand
Left Hand