Don't you let my good girl catch you here
Don't you let my good girl catch you here
She
might shoot you
may cut you and stob you too
Ain't no telling
what she might do

I'm up the country where the cold sleet and snow
I'm
up the country
where the cold sleet and snow
Ain't no telling
how much further I may go

Eat my breakfast here, my dinner in Tennessee
Eat my breakfast here, my dinner in Tennessee
Eat my break-
fast here,
my dinner in Tennessee
I told you I was coming,
baby won't you look for me

" Don't worry! " he says,
and then tells you something
that really gets you worried

Don't knock at my door, little child,
I cannot let you in,
You know not what a world this is
Of cruelty and sin.
Wait in the still eternity
Until I come to you,
The world is cruel, cruel, child,
I cannot let you in!

Don't knock at my heart, little one,
I cannot bear the pain
Of turning deaf-ear to your call
Time and time again!
You do not know the monster men
Inhabiting the earth,
Be still, be still, my precious child,
I must not give you birth!

Don't ask me for a date,
tomorrow we shall meet regardless,
just as we did today.

Night has driven me here.
Wandering aimlessly I looked for friends
and found only this cave.
I have imposed myself on you
feeling I am still pursued,
I am that ancient shepherd.
And who remembers me?
After I lost my faith,
after I became a heretic,
who remembers me?
Only the beast that tears
soundlessly at my breast.

Your eyes are my last refuge
where I hide my face in your gaze,
waiting for my end
where light is most intense.

Don't ask any questions!
I'm afraid of questions!

Questions add all the more to my suffering.
The waters of spring are flooding the pond.
Mandarin ducks still seek each other there.

Last night, the rains fell in an icy sleet.
At a time near dawn, it was extremely cold.
I think of him in the frontier guard tower.
No news has come for such a very long time.

Don't ape what must be born in one;
You'll become a clown of awkwardness:
A boor by birth is never less,
Whatever his caparison.
Just a few upon whom Heaven smiled indulgently,
Seem blessed with the art of pleasing naturally--
An art better not assisted;
So let us not be the donkey in my tale,
Who hoped to seem more lovable
By proffering endearments which would be resisted.
He said to himself, "Why not the same
As that lapdog? Because he's a scrap of a thing,
Have master and mistress been flattering
And petting him the instant he came,

1
Donought would have everything;
Eat the lark, and use its wing;
Sip the sweet, and be the sting:
Donought is the only King.
2

Donought is an alchemist;
Hencock is a communist;
Idle head is heavy fist;
Will's a right line--with a twist.
3

Hark! the throstle! what sings he?
"Worm, my Beauty, come to me!'
Yet all lovely things are free:
"Chain'd and happy, cannot be.'
4

"See the daisies, how they grow!'
When they list, the breezes blow:
Why can't weary man do so?
All enjoy, and nothing owe?
5

1

Done is a battell on the dragon blak,
Our campioun Chryst confoundit hes his force,
The yettis of hell ar brokin with a crak,
The signe trivmphall rasit is of the croce.
The diuillis trymmillis with hiddous voce,
The saulis ar borrowit and to the blis can go.
Chryst with his blud our ransonis dois indoce:
Surrexit dominus de sepulchro.

2

Dungin is the deidly dragon Lucifer,
The crewall serpent with the mortall stang,
The auld kene tegir, with his teith on char,
Quhilk in a wait hes lyne for ws so lang,

D ONAL o' Dreams has no bed for his sleeping,
No gold in his keeping, no glove for his hand;
But the birds understand his wild music's leaping
And the children follow his fiddle's command.
He is sib to the winds and the wandering streams
And the stars are the kinsfolk of Donal o' Dreams.

When day goes over the edge of the dark
The grandsires hark to his songs of old,
And on dreams of gold do the lads embark
While the lassies beckon him in from the cold;
But he's heeding no hearth where the firelight gleams

Grim was fishere swithe good
And mikel couthe on the flood.
Many good fish therinne he took
Bothe with net and with hook:
He took the sturgiun and the whal
And the turbut and lax with-al;
He took the sele and the el
(He spedde ofte swithe wel);
Keling he took and tumberel,
Hering and the makerel,
The butte, the shulle, the thornebake.
Goode paniers dide he make —
One til him, and other thrinne
Til hise sones — to beren fish inne
Up o lande to selle and change.
Forbar he neither town ne grange