Every year Grandma gets a tin of… She always says, 'Ah my favouri… Even before she opens the wrapping Grandpa always says, 'Well, I k… Its two pairs of socks. Just what…
My dress is silent when I tread t… Or stay at home or stir upon the w… Sometimes my trappings and the lof… Raise me above the dwelling-place… And then the power of clouds carri…
IT fell on a day, and a bonnie si… When green grew aits and barley… That there fell out a great disput… Between Argyll and Airlie. Argyll has raised an hunder men,
Anonymous English Christmas carol… (first published in the children’s… On the first day of Christmas, My true love sent to me A partridge in a pear tree.
‘O WHA will shoe my bonny foot? And wha will glove my hand? And wha will bind my middle jimp Wi’ a lang, lang linen band? ‘O wha will kame my yellow hair,
I know a funny little man, As quiet as a mouse, Who does the mischief that is done In everybody’s house. There’s no one ever sees his face,
LOVE wing’d my Hopes and taught… Far from base earth, but not to mo… For true pleasure Lives in measure, Which if men forsake,
At liberty I sit and see Them, that have erst laugh’d me to… Whipp’d with the whip that scourge… And now they ban that they were bo… I see them sit full soberly
YET if His Majesty, our sovereig… Should of his own accord Friendly himself invite, And say 'I’ll be your guest to-mo… How should we stir ourselves, call…
Lend a hand to one another In the daily toil of life; When we meet a weaker brother, Let us help him in the strife. There is none so rich but may,
SUMER is icumen in, Lhude sing cuccu! Groweth sed, and bloweth med, And springth the wude nu— Sing cuccu!
OF on that is so fayr and bright Velut maris stella, Brighter than the day is light, Parens et puella: Ic crie to the, thou see to me,
The bells of hell go ting-a-ling-a… For you but not for me: And the little devils how they sin… For you but not for me. O death, where is thy sting-a-ling…
“Oh where ha’e ye been, Lord Rand… And where ha’e ye been, my handsom… “I ha’e been to the wild wood: mot… For I’m wearied wi’ hunting, and… “An wha met ye there, Lord Randal…
MY blood so red For thee was shed, Come home again, come home again; My own sweet heart, come home agai… You’ve gone astray
