Disc 1 | ||||||
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Never give all the heart, for love
Will hardly seem worth thinking of To passionate women if it seem Certain, and they never dream That it fades out from kiss to kiss; For everything that's lovely is But a brief, dreamy, kind delight. O never give the heart outright, For they, for all smooth lips can say, Have given their hearts up to the play. And who could play it well enough If deaf and dumb and blind with love? He that made this knows all the cost, For he gave all his heart and lost. |
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As I went out walking one fine summer morning,
The birds in the bushes did whistle and sing The lads and the lasses in couples were courtin' Going back to the factory their work to begin He spied one among them, she was fairer then many, Her cheeks like the red rose that blooms in the spring, Her hair like the lily that grows in yon' valley She was only a hard-working factory girl He said soft beside her, more closely to view her She said "My young man, don't stare me so, I gold in my pocket, and silver as well, no more will I answer that factory call..." |
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On Raglan Road on an autumn day I met her first and knew
That her dark hair would weave a snare that I might one day rue; I saw the danger, yet I walked along the enchanted way, And I said, let grief be a fallen leaf at the dawning of the day. On Grafton Street in November we tripped lightly along the ledge Of the deep ravine where can be seen the worth of passion's pledge (play), The Queen of Hearts still making tarts and I not making hay - O I loved too much and by such and such is happiness thrown away. I gave her gifts of the mind I gave her the secret sign that's known To [the] artists who have known the true gods of sound and stone And word and tint. I did not stint [for] I gave her poems to say. With her own name there and her [own] (long) dark hair like clouds over fields of May On a quiet street where old ghosts meet I see her walking now Away from me so hurriedly my reason must allow That I [had wooed] (have loved) not as I should a creature made of clay - When the angel woos the clay he'd lose his wings at the dawn of day. |
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Oh Danny boy, the pipes, the pipes are calling
From glen to glen, and down the mountainside The summer's gone, and all the flow'rs are falling 'tis you, 'tis you must go, and I must bide But come ye back when summer's in meadow Or when the valley's hushed and white with snow 'tis I'll be there in sunshine or in shadow Oh Danny boy, oh Danny boy, I love you so And when ye come and all the flow'rs are dying If I am dead, as dead I will remain You'll come and find the place where I am lying And kneel and say an "Ave" for me And I shall hear, tho' soft you tread above me And all my grave will warm and sweeter be If you will bend and tell me that you love me Then I shall sleep in peace until you come to me |