Mad Tom or Gray's inn Maske - Andreas Stenberg

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"Text from an English 17th century Broadside sheet, melody from J.Playford; The English Dancing master. This setting is for mixed choir with (optional) Solo Bass Voice."

◈ Genre / Form → Partsongs

♯ Key D minor

⁄ Time Signature 4/4

♬ Voicing → SA

◆ Difficulty

Advanced

↕ Range D2 – F5

¶ Language → English

Measures 38

Texture Homophonic

Parts 2

Instruments SA

Pages 3

CPDL # 32010

Editor Andreas Stenberg

Posted 2014-05-14

License Personal

♫Pitch Ranges

Instrument 1

A3 – F5

Instrument 2

D2 – A4

¶Lyrics / Text

New Mad Tom of Bedlam OR, The Man in the Moon drinks Clarret, With Powder-beef, Turnep and Carret. The Tune is, Grays-Inn-Mask FOrth from my sad and darksome Cell, Or from the deep Abiss of Hell, Mad Tom is come to view the world again, To see if he can ease his distempered Brain: Fear and care doth pierce the Soul, Hark how the angry Furies howl; Pluto laughs and Proserpine is, glad, To see poor naked Tom of Bedlam mad: Through the world I wander night and day, to find my stragling sences, In an angry mood I found ol Time, with's Pentarchy of Tenches, When me he spies, Away he flies, For time will way for no man, In vain with cries, I rend the skies, For pitty is not common. Cold and comfortless I lye, Help, O help, or else I dye, Hark I hear Appoll's Theam, The Carman gins to Whistle, Chast Diana Bends her Bow, The Boar begins to Bristle: Come Vulcan with Tools and with Tackle: shake off my troublesome shackle, Let Charles make ready his Wain, To bring my sences again. Last night I heard the Dog-Star bark Mars met Venus in the Dark, Leaping Vulcan het an Iron-Bar, And furiously did run at the God of War, Mars with his Weapon laid about, But Vulcans Temples had the Gout, His broad horns did so hang in his sight, He could not see to aim his Blows aright: Mercury the Nimble Post of heaven, Laid still to see the Quarrel, Gorrel bellied Baccus Gyant-like, bestri'd a strong Beer Barrel: To me he drank, I did him thank, But I could get no Syder, He drank whole Buts, Till he crackt his Guts, But mine were ne'r the wider. Poor naked Tom is very dry, A little drink for Charity: Hark I hear Acteon's Hounds, The Huntsman whoops and Hollows, Ringing Royster, Bowman Jowler At the chase now follows: The man ith Moon Drinks Clarret, With Powder beef Turney and Carret, A Cup of Old Mallago Sack, Will fire the Bush at his back.

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