| Lyrics | Poetic Translation | |
|---|---|---|
| Tmeiskin was jonck, | She was quite young, | |
| wel van passe, niet te groet. | And she was the perfect size. | |
| Ic quam gheloepen met eenem spronck. | In fervor toward her myself I flung | |
| Ic custe se an haren roede mont. | And kissed her on her mouth of rosy red. | |
| Scoen lief, ghy compt zo selden. | "My love, you come so rarely, | |
| Ey ridder, seyt so edel ghenoet, | My champion, princely hero, my prize; | |
| hu liefde quelt my totter doet. | This yearning love is my demise." | |
| Heinrich Isaac | Carol Anne Perry Lagemann |
See Mick Swithinbank's work at Choral Public Domain Library.