This Was The Tenour Of Her Talkynge Lyrics

This was the tenour of her talkynge
Timor mortis conturbat me.

I asked that byrde what she ment
I am a musket fayre and gent
For fere of dethe I am all shent
Timor mortis conturbat me

Whan I shall dye I know no day
Contrey nor place I can not say
Wherfore this songe synge I may.
Timor mortis conturbat me.

Jesu chryste whan he sholde dye
To his father gan he crye
Father he sayd in trynyte
Timor mortis conturbat me.

All chrysten people beholde and se
This worlde is but a vanyte
For therin is but necessyte
Timor mortis conturbat me.

Wake or slepe, eat or drynke
Whan I on my last ende do thynke
For great fere my soule doth synke
Timor mortis conturbat me.