Live, live with me, and thou shalt see
The pleasures Ile prepare for thee:
What sweets the Country can afford
Shall blesse thy Bed, and blesse thy Board.
The soft sweet Mosse shall be thy bed,
With crawling Woodbine over-spread:
By which the silver-shedding streames
Shall gently melt thee into dreames.
Thy clothing next, shall be a Gowne
Made of the Fleeces purest Downe.
The tongues of Kids shall be thy meate;
Their Milke thy drinke; and thou shalt eate
The Paste of Filberts for thy bread
With Cream of Cowslips buttered:

The little wild birds have come flying
From beyond the sea, the blue sea;
The little birds go fluttering
About the bushes, over the open field:
All have their mates and rejoice in love.
Only the good youth, Alexandrushka,
A homeless orphan in the wide world,
Grieves like a pining cuckoo,
And melts away in burning tears.
The poor lad has no one,
No one in the wide world to fondle him, —
No one ever brings joy to the orphan,
Uttering words of kind endearment.
Should he go out into the open field,
There to trample under foot his cares,

Little things I'll give to you —
Till your fingers learn to press
Gently
On a loveliness;

Little things and new —
Till your fingers learn to hold
Love that's fragile,
Love that's old.

VERSE

I have a feeling,
It's a feeling
I'm concealing,
I don't know why.
It's just a mental,
Incidental,
Sentimental
Alibi.
But I adore you,
So strong for you.
Why go on stalling?
I am falling,
Love is calling,
Why be shy?

REFRAIN

Let's fall in love,
Why shouldn't we fall in love?
Our hearts are made of it,
Let's take a chance,
Why be afraid of it?
Let's close our eyes,
And make our own Paradise.
Little we know of it,
Still we can try

VERSE 1

I was a humdrum person
Leading a life apart,
When love flew in through my window wide
And quickened my humdrum heart.
Love flew in through my window,
I was so happy then.
But after love had stayed a little while,
Love flew out again.

REFRAIN

What is this thing called love?
This funny thing called love?
Just who can solve its mystery?
Why should it make a fool of me?
I saw you there one wonderful day.
You took my heart and threw it away.

Light is made to shine in darkness,
Let us, in this world of woe,
Shine as luminaries; brighten
Dismal pathways as we go.

Love is sent to rout the hatred
Of a sad and sin-cursed earth;
Let us love and lift in kindness,
Through our Saviour, give it mirth.

Hope is born to cheer the faint heart,
'Tis the bright and morning star
To the weary, ladened pilgrim;
As he, trusting, looks afar.

Faith, a ladder, still is reaching
From beyond the beck'ning skies;
Charts the course of every Christian,
Leads us on to paradise.

(T O B E Caught IN THE R AIN ?)

VERSE

The weather is fright'ning;
The thunder and light'ning
Seem to be having their way.
But as far as I'm concerned,
It's a lovely day.
The turn in the weather
Will keep us together,
So I can honestly say
That as far as I'm concerned,
It's a lovely day.
And ev'rything's O.K.

REFRAIN

Isn't this a lovely day
To be caught in the rain?
You were going on your way,
Now you've got to remain.
Just as you were going,

VERSE

Why do I allow my heart
To make decisions for me?
Why do I keep list'ning to my heart?
Why do I get so involved
When I would rather be free?
Maybe it's because I'm not so smart.

REFRAIN

Fools fall in love,
Only lunatics fall in love,
And I'm a fool.
Fools seek romance,
Only idiots take a chance,
And I'm a fool.
I should be able to put all my feelings aside,
I should be able to take one free ride in my stride,
But fools cannot play,

VERSE

Ev'rything went wrong,
And the whole day long
I'd feel so blue.
For the longest while
I'd forget to smile;
Then I met you.
Now that my blue days have passed,
Now that I've found you at last,

REFRAIN

I'll be loving you,
Always.
With a love that's true,
Always.
When the things you've planned
Need a helping hand,
I will understand,
Always, always.
Days may not be fair,
Always.
That's when I'll be there,
Always.
Not for just an hour,

Let the bird of lowdest lay,
On the sole Arabian tree,
Herauld sad and trumpet be:
To whose sound chaste wings obay.

But thou shriking harbinger,
Foule precurrer of the fiend,
Augour of the fevers end,
To this troupe come thou not neere.

From this Session inderdict
Every soule of tyrant wing,
Save the Eagle feath'red King,
Keepe the obsequie so strict.

Let the Priest in Surples white,
That defunctive Musicke can,
Be the death-devining Swan,
Lest the Requiem lacke his right.

And thou treble dated Crow,