> June Tabor > Songs > Ah! The Sighs

Ah! The Sighs That Come Fro‘ My Heart

[ Roud V46347 ; anon. 16^th Century]

From the appendix to the King’s Manuscripts, kept in the British Museum—the King being Henry VIII, an accomplished musician and composer of airs. William Cornysh (1465-1523), of whom Gibbon (Fall of the Roman Empire) said was an “admirable poet, musician and occasional jailbird” at the court of Henry VIII, also has a setting of the song.

Alfred Moffat and Frank Kidson printed Ah! The Sighs That Come Fro‘ My Heart in their book The Minstrelsy of England (1901, p.178). Frank Kidson noted:

Mr. William Chappell printed this song and air from a manuscript of the reign of Henry the Eighth, now in the British Museum. The MS. also contains other specimens of secular songs of the period, and is especially valuable in fixing the character of English song and melody at this time. The contents of the manuscript include both words and music of Western Wynde, When Wilt Thou Blow? and Blow Thy Horn, Hunter!.

June Tabor sang Ah! The Sighs in 2005 on her Topic CD At the Wood’s Heart. She noted:

From the reign of King Henry VIII (b.1491, King of England 1509-47), appendix to the King’s mss. No.58

Frankie Archer sang Ah! The Sighs That Come From My Heart in 2025 on the Folklore Sessions EP Folklore Volume 3.

Lyrics

June Tabor sings Ah! The Sighs

Ah! The sighs that come from my heart
They grieve me passing sore
Syth I must from my love depart
Farewell my joye for ever, evermore

Oft to me wyth her goodly face
She was wont to cast an eye
But now absent to me in place
Alas! For woe I dye, I dye

I was wont hur to beholde
And takyn in armys twayne
But now wyth syghes many folde
Farewell my joye and welcome, welcome payne

Ah! My thinke that I see hur yett
As wolde to Gode that I myght
There wolde no joye be in hyt
Unto my heart to make hyt, make hyt light

(repeat first verse)

Frankie Archer sings Ah! The Sighs That Come From My Heart

Ah! The sighs that come from my heart
They grieve me passing sore
I must from my love depart
Farewell for evermore

I was wont her to behold
And take in arms twain
And now with sighs manyfold
Farewell my joy and welcome pain

Farewell – Farewell
Farewell – Farewell
For my poor heart is aching

Song thrush on the tallest tree
Tell again that melody
Tell it again unto me
For my poor heart is breaking