And did those feet in ancient time Walk upon England’s mountains gre… And was the holy Lamb of God On England’s pleasant pastures se… And did the Countenance Divine
TO be or not to be Of great capacity, Like Sir Isaac Newton, Or Locke, or Doctor South, Or Sherlock upon Death—
Piping down the valleys wild, Piping songs of pleasant glee, On a cloud I saw a child, And he laughing said to me: “Pipe a song about a Lamb!”
1st Vo. WANT Matches? 2nd Vo. Yes! Yes! Yes! 1st Vo. Want Matches? 2nd Vo. No! 1st Vo. Want Matches?
Awake, awake, my little boy! Thou wast thy mother’s only joy; Why dost thou weep in thy gentle s… Awake! thy father does thee keep. `O, what land is the Land of Drea…
WHO is this, that with unerring step dares tempt the wilds, where only Nature’s foot hath trod? ’Tis Contemplation, daughter of the grey Morning! Majestical she steppeth, and with her p...
Little fly, Thy summer’s play My thoughtless hand Has brushed away. Am not I
“Love seeketh not itself to please… Nor for itself hath any care, But for another gives its ease, And builds a Heaven in Hell's des… So sung a little Clod of Clay
All the night in woe Lyca’s parents go Over valleys deep, While the deserts weep. Tired and woe-begone,
My mother bore me in the southern… And I am black, but O! my soul is… White as an angel is the English… But I am black, as if bereav’d of… My mother taught me underneath a t…
‘O WINTER! bar thine adamantine… The north is thine; there hast tho… Deep-founded habitation. Shake no… Nor bend thy pillars with thine ir… He hears me not, but o’er the yawn…
LO! the Bat with leathern wing, Winking and blinking, Winking and blinking, Winking and blinking, Like Dr. Johnson.
THERE’S Doctor Clash, And Signor Falalasole, O they sweep in the cash Into their purse hole! Fa me la sol, La me fa sol!
Is this a holy thing to see In a rich and fruitful land, Babes reduced to misery, Fed with cold and usurous hand? Is that trembling cry a song?
COME, kings, and listen to my so… When Gwin, the son of Nore, Over the nations of the North His cruel sceptre bore; The nobles of the land did feed