Thou Hast Never Called Me by My Name v2 (Remastered)

[Style prompt for Suno's Style box]: uptempo country, driving rhythm, lively, energetic, foot-stomping, outlaw country, 1970s country, lute, harp, lyre, male vocalist, baritone, twangy, storytelling, Renaissance, Elizabethan, David Allan Coe style

V5.5

[Intro]
(lute solo, fast driving rhythm)

[Verse 1]
Faith, 'twas all I could do to stay my weeping;
Oft it seemed a vanity to tarry here.
Yet thou need'st not call me "sweetheart," nor "beloved,"
For thou hast never once spoke my Christian name.

[Verse 2]
Thou need'st not call me Willie Shakespeare, [gravelly voice]
Nor must thou call me Thomas Kyd, [high tenor]
And thou need'st not call me Ben Jonson henceforth, [booming baritone]
Though thou hast stirred my choler and my pride.

[Chorus]
[Group vocals, full harmony]
And I shall bide as long as thou wilt suffer me,
I minded ne'er the pelting of the rain;
But thou need'st not call me "sweetheart," nor "beloved" —
Thou hast never even spoke my Christian name.

[Verse 3]
I have beheld my name inscribed within thy ledgers,
And seen it chalked on playbills where I've trod;
But the only hour I know I'll hear "Kit Marlowe"
Is when the Angel sounds the Trump of God.

[Spoken Word]
(harp underneath, dry baritone spoken delivery)
Mark me well: a comrade of mine, one Sir Francis Bacon, penned this very ditty, and he didst swear upon his honour it was the most excellent minstrel's ballad ever writ. I despatched a courier to him bearing a letter, saying: "Nay, 'tis not yet the perfect ballad — for thou hast made no mention of the tempest, nor of noble steeds, nor of dragons, nor of fortified keeps, nor of a royal princess, nor of becoming most foully besotted upon sack and ale."
Well — he sat him down, scratched out a final verse, and upon reading it, I perceived he had at last captured the very soul of the minstrel's art. I am bound by honour to perform it for thee now.

[Final Verse, sung, lute, harp and lyre kick back in full]
I was most monstrously drunk upon the day the Princess fled the keep,
And I set forth to fetch her through the rain;
But ere I could arrive astride my trusty steed,
She was devoured by a most accurséd dragon!

[Final Chorus]
[Group vocals, full harmony]
And I shall bide as long as thou wilt suffer me,
I minded ne'er the pelting of the rain;
Nay, thou need'st not call me "sweetheart," nor "beloved" —
Thou hast never even spoke...
I wonder why thou speakest not...
Why dost thou never call me by my name?

[Outro]
(lyre fade, lute solo)

2471/7500

[Intro] (lute solo, fast driving rhythm) [Verse 1] Faith, 'twas all I could do to stay my weeping; Oft it seemed a vanity to tarry here. Yet thou need'st not call me "sweetheart," nor "beloved," For thou hast never once spoke my Christian name. [Verse 2] Thou need'st not call me Willie Shakespeare, [gravelly voice] Nor must thou call me Thomas Kyd, [high tenor] And thou need'st not call me Ben Jonson henceforth, [booming baritone] Though thou hast stirred my choler and my pride. [Chorus] [Group vocals, full harmony] And I shall bide as long as thou wilt suffer me, I minded ne'er the pelting of the rain; But thou need'st not call me "sweetheart," nor "beloved" — Thou hast never even spoke my Christian name. [Verse 3] I have beheld my name inscribed within thy ledgers, And seen it chalked on playbills where I've trod; But the only hour I know I'll hear "Kit Marlowe" Is when the Angel sounds the Trump of God. [Chorus] [Group vocals, full harmony] And I shall bide as long as thou wilt suffer me, I minded ne'er the pelting of the rain; But thou need'st not call me "sweetheart," nor "beloved" — Thou hast never even spoke my Christian name. [Spoken Word] (harp underneath, dry baritone spoken delivery) Mark me well: a comrade of mine, one Sir Francis Bacon, penned this very ditty, and he didst swear upon his honour it was the most excellent minstrel's ballad ever writ. I despatched a courier to him bearing a letter, saying: "Nay, 'tis not yet the perfect ballad — for thou hast made no mention of the tempest, nor of noble steeds, nor of dragons, nor of fortified keeps, nor of a royal princess, nor of becoming most foully besotted upon sack and ale." Well — he sat him down, scratched out a final verse, and upon reading it, I perceived he had at last captured the very soul of the minstrel's art. I am bound by honour to perform it for thee now. [Final Verse, sung, lute, harp and lyre kick back in full] I was most monstrously drunk upon the day the Princess fled the keep, And I set forth to fetch her through the rain; But ere I could arrive astride my trusty steed, She was devoured by a most accurséd dragon! [Final Chorus] [Group vocals, full harmony] And I shall bide as long as thou wilt suffer me, I minded ne'er the pelting of the rain; Nay, thou need'st not call me "sweetheart," nor "beloved" — Thou hast never even spoke... I wonder why thou speakest not... Why dost thou never call me by my name? [Outro] (lyre fade, lute solo)

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