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Violin

Trumpet with keyboard

Trumpet miscellaneous

Horn

Trombone

Euphonium

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Soprano

  • Jazz Interludefor soprano & piano OR soprano & brass quintet
  • Prayer for a New Mother - (4:00) for solo female voice with violin & piano
  • Tune for an Ill-tempered Clavichordfor soprano & piano

    Play

    Michele Byrd, soprano
    Richard Bosworth, piano

    Buy

    Click to go to the sheet music store.

    Text

    Tune for an Ill-tempered Clavichord

    Text by Ogden Nash

    Oh, once there lived in Kankakee
    A handy dandy Yankakee,
    A lone and lean and lankakee
    Cantankakerous Yankakee.
    He slept without a blankaket,
    This rough and ready Yankakee,
    The bachelor of Kankakee.
    He never used a hankakee,
    He jeered at hanky-pankakee;
    Indeed, to give a frank account,
    He didn't have a bank account.
    And yet at times he hankakered
    In marriage to be anchachored.
    When celibacy rankakles,
    One dreams of pretty ankakles.
    He took a trip to Waikiki
    And wooed a girl named Psycheche,
    And now this rugged Yankakee
    'S a married man in Kankakee.
    Good night, dear friends, and thankakee.

    Printable PDF

  • Walk Slowlyfor soprano & piano

    Play

    Michele Byrd, soprano
    Brice Gerlach, piano

    Buy

    Click to go to the sheet music store.

    Text

    Walk Slowly

    Text by Adelaide Love

    If you should go before me, dear, walk slowly
    Down the ways of death, well-worn and wide,
    For I would want to overtake you quickly
    And seek the journey’s ending by your side.

    I would be so forlorn not to descry you
    Down some shining highroad when I came;
    Walk slowly, dear, and often look behind you
    And pause to hear if someone calls your name.

    Printable PDF

  • A Wanderer's Songfor soprano & piano

    Play

    Michele Byrd, soprano
    Brice Gerlach, piano

    Buy

    Click to go to the sheet music store.

    Text

    A Wanderer's Song

    Text by John Masefield

    A WIND'S in the heart of me, a fire's in my heels,
    I am tired of brick and stone and rumbling wagon-wheels;
    I hunger for the sea's edge, the limit of the land,
    Where the wild old Atlantic is shouting on the sand.

    Oh I'll be going, leaving the noises of the street,
    To where a lifting foresail-foot is yanking at the sheet;
    To a windy, tossing anchorage where yawls and ketches ride,
    Oh I'll be going, going, until I meet the tide.

    And first I'll hear the sea-wind, the mewing of the gulls,
    The clucking, sucking of the sea about the rusty hulls,
    The songs at the capstan at the hooker warping out,
    And then the heart of me'll know I'm there or thereabout.

    Oh I am sick of brick and stone, the heart of me is sick,
    For windy green, unquiet sea, the realm of Moby Dick;
    And I'll be going, going, from the roaring of the wheels,
    For a wind's in the heart of me, a fire's in my heels.

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