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Welcome to Hyperion Records, an independent British classical label devoted to presenting high-quality recordings of music of all styles and from all periods from the twelfth century to the twenty-first.
Hyperion offers both CDs, and downloads in a number of formats. The site is also available in several languages.
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'Delightfully sung by Bott and Cornwell to a joyful accompaniment' (Gramophone) 'Stylish interpretations … elegantly shaped wind playing by The Parley of Instruments … the disc provides valuable insight into early 18th c ...» More
A flaxen-headed cowboy, As simple as may be, And next a merry ploughboy, I whistled o’er the lea; But now a saucy footman, I strut in worsted lace, And soon I’ll be a butler, And wag my jolly face. When steward I’m promoted I’ll snip a tradesmen’s bill, My master’s coffers empty, My pockets for to fill. When lolling in my chariot So great a man I’ll be, You’ll forget the little ploughboy That whistled o’er the lea.
I’ll buy votes at elections, And when I’ve made the pelf, I’ll stand poll for the parliament, And then vote in myself. Whatever’s good for me, sir, I never will oppose: When all my ayes are sold off, Why then I’ll sell my noes. I’ll joke, harangue and paragraph, With speeches charm the ear, And when I’m tired on my legs, Then I’ll sit down a peer. In court or city honour So great a man I’ll be, You’ll forget the little ploughboy That whistled o’er the lea.
A flaxen-headed milkmaid, as simple as may be, And next a pretty dairymaid I chanted o’er the lea. But now a saucy chambermaid I’ve got a better place; I’ll dress my head with ribbons fine, set off my handsome face. When housekeeper promoted I’ll snip a butcher’s bill, My lady’s pockets empty, my own I mean to fill, And lolling in my chariot a lady great I’ll be; You’ll forget the little milkmaid that chanted o’er the lea.
I’ll try to get a husband, no matter for the pelf, So I can have a title, why then, I please myself; Her ladyship I long to be, a lord or knight I crave, If he is rich in honours, no matter if a knave. I hope to be a peeress and see a birthday ball, With footmen dressed so gaily, my carriage for to call. When lolling in my chariot a lady great I’ll be; You’ll forget the little milkmaid that chanted o’er the lea.
I’ll send my lord to India, his pockets for to fill, So he does get their treasure the nabobs he may kill; With gold and diamonds loaded when he returns again, For honours and for riches I’ll be foremost in the train. A Knight of Bath or Garter I’ll purchase him, I vow, And then forget those merry days when milking of my cow. So lolling in my chariot a lady great I’ll be, You’ll forget the little milkmaid that chanted o’er the lea.