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…
BALOW, my babe, lie still and sl… It grieves me sore to see thee wee… Wouldst thou be quiet I’se be gla… Thy mourning makes my sorrow sad: Balow my boy, thy mother’s joy,
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
The falcon soars The town’s gates are even higher Angelica’s their doorkeeper She’s wound the sun round her head She’s tied the moon round her wais…
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…
THE Indian weed withered quite; Green at morn, cut down at night; Shows thy decay: all flesh is hay: Thus think, then drink Tobacco… And when the smoke ascends on high…
The key to friendship Is not in the hand you hold But how you hold the hand. It’s not in the tears you dry But all the reasons why.
IN a valley of this restles mind I sought in mountain and in mead, Trusting a true love for to find. Upon an hill then took I heed; A voice I heard (and near I yede)
THIS ae nighte, this ae nighte, —Every nighte and alle, Fire and fleet and candle-lighte, And Christe receive thy saule. When thou from hence away art past…
Westron wind, when wilt thou blow That small rain down can rain? Christ, that my love were in my ar… And I in my bed again!
SUMER is icumen in, Lhude sing cuccu! Groweth sed, and bloweth med, And springth the wude nu— Sing cuccu!
Nerve thy soul with doctrines nobl… Noble in the walks of time, Time that leads to an eternal, An eternal life sublime. Life sublime in moral beauty,
There were three ravens sat on a t… They were as black as they might b… The one of them said to his mate, ‘Where shall we our breakefast tak… ‘Downe in yonder greene field,
Have you ever heard the torrent of… As it curses it’s way to Vitipura… Through rapids vitriolic and catar… To it’s final foul mutterings in…
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,
