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º Àû° À ¡¶ú0uÀº±¹wPastime With Good Company
Pastime with good company
I love and shall until I die.
Gruch who lust, but none deny;
So God be pleased, thus live will I;
For my pastance,
Hunt, sing and dance;
My heart is set
All goodly sport
For my comfort:
Who shall me let?
Youth must have some dalliance,
Of good or ill some pastance;
Company methinks then best
All thought and fancies to digest,
For idleness
Is chief mistress
Of vices all:
Then who can say
But mirth and play
Is best of all?
Company with honesty
Is virtue, vices to flee;
Company is good and ill,
But every man hath his free will.
The best ensue,
The worst eschew,
My mind shall be;
Virtue to use,
Vice to refuse,
Thus shall I use me.
þÁ®¡¤¿ù ¡¶°¡£¬±ö¡·Ah Robin
Ah, Robin, gentle, Robin,
Tell me how thy leman doth
and thou shalt know of mine.
My lady is unkind I wis,
Alack why is she so?
She lov'th another better than me,
and yet she will say no.
Ah, Robin, gentle, Robin,
Tell me how thy leman doth
and thou shalt know of mine.
I cannot think such doubleness
for I find women true,
In faith my lady lov'th me well
she will change for no new.
Ah, Robin, gentle, Robin,
Tell me how thy leman doth
and thou shalt know of mine.
ýû ¡¶ª²ô²»ù£¿¡·Why shall not I?
Why shall not I? Why shall not I to my lady be true?
My lady hath me in that grace
She takes me as her own;
Her mind is in none other place,
Now sith it is thus known,
Why shall not I?
Why shall not I? Why shall not I to my lady be true?
My lady saith of truth it is
No love that can be lost;
Alas, alas, what word is this?
Her to remember most.
Why shall not I?
Why shall not I? Why shall not I to my lady be true?
À¶û·d¶÷¡¤ þÁ®7ù¡¶° wThe Turtle Dove
Fare you well, my dear, I must be gone,
And leave you for a while;
If I roam away I'll come back again,
Though I roam ten thousand miles, my dear,
Though I roam ten thousand miles.
So fair thou art, my bonny lass,
So deep in love am I;
But I never will prove false to the bonny lass I love,
Till the stars fall from the sky, my dear,
Till the stars fall from the sky.
The sea will never run dry, my dear,
Nor the rocks melt with the sun,
But I never will prove false to the bonny lass I love,
Till all these things be done, my dear,
Till all these things be done.
O yonder doth sit that little turtle dove,
He doth sit on yonder high tree,
A-making a moan for the loss of his love,
As I will do for thee, my dear,
As I will do for thee.
r® !¤ÁÀ ¡¶ µÁ컸ö¹ú¶!·My Soul There Is A Country
My soul, there is a country
Far beyond the stars,
Where stands a winged sentry,
All skilful in the wars:
There, above noise and danger,
Sweet Peace sits crowned with smiles
And One, born in a manger,
Commands the beauteous files.
He is thy gracious friend,
And ¨C O my soul awake! ¨C
Did in pure love descend
To die here for thy sake.
If thou canst get but thither,
There grows the flow¡¯r of Peace,
The Rose that cannot wither,
Thy fortress, and thy ease.
Leave then thy foolish ranges,
For none can thee secure
But One who never changes,
Thy God, thy life, thy cure.
²vûù¡¤¬Àû¶ûù¡¤ù9¸£ ¡¶ºÀ¿ Àû !·Heraclitus
They told me, Heraclitus, they told me you were dead;
They brought me bitter news to hear and bitter tears to shed;
I wept, as I remembered, how often you and I
Had tired the sun with talking, and sent him down the sky.
And now that thou art lying, my dear old Carian guest,
A handful of grey ashes, long, long ago at rest,
Still are thy pleasant voices, thy nightingales, awake;
For Death, he taketh all away, but them he cannot take.
°®µ»ª¡¤°¬¶û¼ ¡¶»»°k¡·Evening Scene
The sheep-bell tolleth curfew-time;
The gnats, a busy rout,
Fleck the warm air; the dismal owl
Shouteth a sleepy shout;
The voiceless bat, more felt than seen,
Is flitting round about.
The aspen leaflets scarcely stir:
The river seems to think:
Athwart the dusk, broad primroses
Look coldly from the brink,
Where, list'ning to the freshet's noise,
The quiet cattle drink.
The bees boom past, the white moths rise
Like spirits from the ground;
The gray flies hum their weary tune,
A distant-dream-like sound;
And far, far off to the slumb'rous eve,
Bayeth an old guard-hound.
<º²ù¡¤²ªÀ7ù ¡¶x2ú¡·Liebeslieder Waltzen
1. ø £¬¿p®µnº¢Tell me, Maiden Dearest
Tell me, maiden Dearest,
who in this cool breast of mine
have with your glances,
roused these wild ardours.
Will you not soften your heart?
Will you live nun-like,
without the sweetness of love,
or may I come to you?
To live without the sweetness of love,
is a bitter lot I would not bear,
Then come, my black-eyed one,
come when the stars give their greeting.
2. £¬n O women
O women, women
what ecstasy they bring!
But for women I ¡®d long ago,
have become a monk!
3. ¿ Á¯µnº¢If only I, a humble maiden
If only I, a humble maiden
could glow with the beauty of an evening sunset!
To please one, one alone,
would be a fount of endless bliss.
4. µ±õþ¦ô When your eyes rest on me
When your eyes rest on me,
so kindly and lovingly,
every last trouble
that besets me flees.
O do not let the sweet gole
of that love die down!
No one will ever love you
So truly as I.
5. ¹z³ªµ6 ô À The Nightingale sings so sweetly
The Nightingale sings so sweetly
when the stars are shining.
Love me, beloved heart,
embrace me in the darkness.
6. ð®µ#¬± % µ °Do not stray, dear love
Do not stray, dear love,
in yonder flowery meadow.
it is too wet, too yielding,
for your tender feet.
All flooded are the paths,
and tracks there,
so profusely have my eyes,
there shed tears.
7. ÷¦¡»The branches tremble
The branches tremble,
a little bird
has brushed them in his flight.
Disturbed in like fashion,
My soul trembles
with love, desire and grief
when it thinks of you.
¸² ¡¶±¹wSummertime
Summertime,
And the livin' is easy
Fish are jumpin'
And the cotton is high
Your daddy's rich
And your mamma's good lookin'
So hush little baby
Don't you cry
One of these mornings
You're going to rise up singing
Then you'll spread your wings
And you'll fly to the sky
But till that morning
There's a'nothing can harm you
With daddy and mamma standing by
Summertime,
And the livin' is easy
Fish are jumpin'
And the cotton is high
Your daddy's rich
And your mamma's good lookin'
So hush little baby
Don't you cry
²vûù¡¤¬Àû¶ûù¡¤ù9¸£¡¶À¶wThe Blue Bird
The lake lay blue below the hill,
Oe¡¯r it as I looked there flew
Across the waters, cold and still.
A bird whose wings were palest blue.
The sky above was blue at last,
The sky beneath me blue in blue,
A moment ere the bird had passed.
It caught his image as he flew.
<º²¡¤öa¶°®Àöÿ~³ ú¡·Alice in Wonderland Songs
þÁ®Àõù£¬ÀÁ You Are Old, Father William
You are old, father William," the young man said,
"And your hair has become very white;
And yet you incessantly stand on your head
Do you think, at your age, it is right?
"In my youth," father William replied to his son,
"I feared it might injure the brain;
But, now that I'm perfectly sure I have none,
Why, I do it again and again."
"You are old," said the youth, "as I mentioned before,
And you have grown most uncommonly fat;
Yet you turned a back-somersault in at the door
Pray what is the reason for that?"
"In my youth," said the sage, as he shook his grey locks,
"I kept all my limbs very supple
By the use of this ointment one shilling a box
Allow me to sell you a couple?"
"You are old," said the youth, "and your jaws are too weak
For anything tougher than suet;
Yet you finished the goose, with the bones and the beak
Pray, how did you manage to do it?"
"In my youth," said his fater, "I took to the law,
And argued each case with my wife;
And the muscular strength, which it gave to my jaw,
Has lasted the rest of my life."
"You are old," said the youth, "one would hardly suppose
That your eye was as steady as ever;
Yet you balanced an eel on the end of your nose
What made you so awfully clever?"
"I have answered three questions, and that is enough,"
Said his father. "Don't give yourself airs!
Do you think I can listen all day to such stuff?
Be off, or I'll kick you down stairs.
°õ¹è>³z kWe¡¯re painting the roses red
We¡¯re painting the roses red
In every flower bed,
There¡¯s not a drop of paint to spare
Cos all of the roses everywhere
Whatever their colour must now instead
Be painted deepest red.
Painting the roses red,
That¡¯s what we said!
We¡¯re painting the roses red
And many a tear we¡¯ll shed
Because we know they will not grow
If covered in paint from top to toe
But all of the roses in every bed
Must now be painted red.
Painting the roses red,
That¡¯s what we said!
We¡¯re painting the roses red;
You¡¯ll think we¡¯re off our head
The pink and blue and yellow too,
What¡¯s wrong with the colours that nature grew?
We¡¯re asking you why must they all instead
Be painted deepest red?
Painting the roses red,
That¡¯s what we said.!
We¡¯re painting the roses red
In order to keep our head
The queen insists on a single hue
Not purple or aquamarine or blue.
That¡¯s why all the roses ion every bed
Must now be painted red.
Painting the roses red,
That¡¯s what we said!
Don¡¯t lose your head,
Paint them all red
Or you¡¯ll be dead!
»»ªµ¡¤¹võ¹ìõ¹wRöslein Röslein
Once a boy saw a little rose standing,
Little rose of the field,
She was so young and beautiful,
He dashed there quickly to see her near,
Beholden with abundant joy,
Little rose, little rose, little rose red,
Little rose of the field.
The boy then said: ¡°I shall pick thee,
Little rose of the field.¡±
The little rose said: ¡°I shall stick thee,
Though you¡¯ll always think of me,
I¡¯ll not want to suffer it.¡±
Little rose, little rose, little rose red,
Little rose of the field.
Still the rough boy picked the rose,
Little rose of the field.
The little rose darted thus and pricked,
No prose of pain could help her,
Alas, she must it yet suffer.
Little rose, little rose, little rose red,
Little rose of the field.
Á÷¡¤¸À¼½!¶²¼Àø/ !· Brigg Fair
It was on the fifth of August, the weather fine and fair,
Unto Brigg Fair I did repair; for love I was inclined.
I got up with the lark in the morning, with my heart so full of glee,
Of thinking there to meet my dear; long time I wished to see.
I took hold of her lily white hand, O and merrily was her heart
¡°And now we¡¯re met together I hope we ne¡¯er shall part
For it's meeting is a pleasure, love, and parting is a grief,
But an unconstant lover is worse than any thief.
The green leaves they shall wither and the branches they shall die,
If ever I prove false to her, to the girl that loves me.
¸² ¡¶°®ÀcÁ¡·Our love is here to stay
It's very clear
Our love is here to stay ;
Not for a year
But ever and a day.
The radio and the telephone
And the movies that we know
May just be passing fancies,
And in time may go !
But, oh my dear,
Our love is here to stay.
Together we're
Going a long, long way
In time the Rockies may crumble,
Gibralter may tumble,
There're only made of clay,
But our love is here to stay.
¹þµ¡¤°¢á¶· >²ºwSomewhere over the rainbow
Somewhere over the rainbow
Way up high,
There's a land that I heard of
Once in a lullaby.
Somewhere over the rainbow
Skies are blue,
And the dreams that you dare to dream
Really do come true.
Someday I'll wish upon a star
And wake up where the clouds are far
Behind me.
Where troubles melt like lemon drops
Away above the chimney tops
That's where you'll find me.
Somewhere over the rainbow
Bluebirds fly.
Birds fly over the rainbow.
Why then, oh why can't I?
If happy little bluebirds fly
Beyond the rainbow
Why, oh why can't I?
±£¡¤è /<º²¡¤Áo ¡¶a·Yesterday
Yesterday, all my troubles seemed so far away
Now it looks as though they're here to stay
Oh, I believe in yesterday.
Suddenly, I'm not half to man I used to be,
There's a shadow hanging over me.
Oh, yesterday came suddenly.
Why she had to go I don't know she wouldn't say.
I said something wrong, now I long for yesterday.
Yesterday, love was such an easy game to play.
Now I need a place to hide away.
Oh, I believe in yesterday.
<º²¡¤ þÁ®7ù ¡¶»ö²»µ¥!· Double Trouble
Double, double, toil and trouble.
Fire burn and cauldron bubble.
Double, double, toil and trouble.
Something wicked this way comes!
Eye of newt and toe of frog,
wool of bat and tongue of dog,
Adder's fork and blind-worm's sting,
lizard's leg and owlet's wing.
Double, double, toil and trouble.
Fire burn and cauldron bubble.
Double, double, toil and trouble.
Something wicked this way comes!
In the cauldron boil and bake,
fillet of a fenny snake,
scale of dragon, tooth of wolf,
witches mummy, maw and gulf.
Double, double, toil and trouble.
Fire burn and cauldron bubble.
Double, double, toil and trouble.
Fire burn and cauldron bubble.
Double, double, toil and trouble.
Fire burn and cauldron bubble.
Something wicked this way comes!
¸ú¼½
¸4
º Àû° À ¡¶ú0uÀº±¹wPastime With Good Company
Pastime with good company
I love and shall until I die.
Gruch who lust, but none deny;
So God be pleased, thus live will I;
For my pastance,
Hunt, sing and dance;
My heart is set
All goodly sport
For my comfort:
Who shall me let?
Youth must have some dalliance,
Of good or ill some pastance;
Company methinks then best
All thought and fancies to digest,
For idleness
Is chief mistress
Of vices all:
Then who can say
But mirth and play
Is best of all?
Company with honesty
Is virtue, vices to flee;
Company is good and ill,
But every man hath his free will.
The best ensue,
The worst eschew,
My mind shall be;
Virtue to use,
Vice to refuse,
Thus shall I use me.
þÁ®¡¤¿ù ¡¶°¡£¬±ö¡·Ah Robin
Ah, Robin, gentle, Robin,
Tell me how thy leman doth
and thou shalt know of mine.
My lady is unkind I wis,
Alack why is she so?
She lov'th another better than me,
and yet she will say no.
Ah, Robin, gentle, Robin,
Tell me how thy leman doth
and thou shalt know of mine.
I cannot think such doubleness
for I find women true,
In faith my lady lov'th me well
she will change for no new.
Ah, Robin, gentle, Robin,
Tell me how thy leman doth
and thou shalt know of mine.
ýû ¡¶ª²ô²»ù£¿¡·Why shall not I?
Why shall not I? Why shall not I to my lady be true?
My lady hath me in that grace
She takes me as her own;
Her mind is in none other place,
Now sith it is thus known,
Why shall not I?
Why shall not I? Why shall not I to my lady be true?
My lady saith of truth it is
No love that can be lost;
Alas, alas, what word is this?
Her to remember most.
Why shall not I?
Why shall not I? Why shall not I to my lady be true?
À¶û·d¶÷¡¤ þÁ®7ù¡¶° wThe Turtle Dove
Fare you well, my dear, I must be gone,
And leave you for a while;
If I roam away I'll come back again,
Though I roam ten thousand miles, my dear,
Though I roam ten thousand miles.
So fair thou art, my bonny lass,
So deep in love am I;
But I never will prove false to the bonny lass I love,
Till the stars fall from the sky, my dear,
Till the stars fall from the sky.
The sea will never run dry, my dear,
Nor the rocks melt with the sun,
But I never will prove false to the bonny lass I love,
Till all these things be done, my dear,
Till all these things be done.
O yonder doth sit that little turtle dove,
He doth sit on yonder high tree,
A-making a moan for the loss of his love,
As I will do for thee, my dear,
As I will do for thee.
r® !¤ÁÀ ¡¶ µÁ컸ö¹ú¶!·My Soul There Is A Country
My soul, there is a country
Far beyond the stars,
Where stands a winged sentry,
All skilful in the wars:
There, above noise and danger,
Sweet Peace sits crowned with smiles
And One, born in a manger,
Commands the beauteous files.
He is thy gracious friend,
And ¨C O my soul awake! ¨C
Did in pure love descend
To die here for thy sake.
If thou canst get but thither,
There grows the flow¡¯r of Peace,
The Rose that cannot wither,
Thy fortress, and thy ease.
Leave then thy foolish ranges,
For none can thee secure
But One who never changes,
Thy God, thy life, thy cure.
²vûù¡¤¬Àû¶ûù¡¤ù9¸£ ¡¶ºÀ¿ Àû !·Heraclitus
They told me, Heraclitus, they told me you were dead;
They brought me bitter news to hear and bitter tears to shed;
I wept, as I remembered, how often you and I
Had tired the sun with talking, and sent him down the sky.
And now that thou art lying, my dear old Carian guest,
A handful of grey ashes, long, long ago at rest,
Still are thy pleasant voices, thy nightingales, awake;
For Death, he taketh all away, but them he cannot take.
°®µ»ª¡¤°¬¶û¼ ¡¶»»°k¡·Evening Scene
The sheep-bell tolleth curfew-time;
The gnats, a busy rout,
Fleck the warm air; the dismal owl
Shouteth a sleepy shout;
The voiceless bat, more felt than seen,
Is flitting round about.
The aspen leaflets scarcely stir:
The river seems to think:
Athwart the dusk, broad primroses
Look coldly from the brink,
Where, list'ning to the freshet's noise,
The quiet cattle drink.
The bees boom past, the white moths rise
Like spirits from the ground;
The gray flies hum their weary tune,
A distant-dream-like sound;
And far, far off to the slumb'rous eve,
Bayeth an old guard-hound.
<º²ù¡¤²ªÀ7ù ¡¶x2ú¡·Liebeslieder Waltzen
1. ø £¬¿p®µnº¢Tell me, Maiden Dearest
Tell me, maiden Dearest,
who in this cool breast of mine
have with your glances,
roused these wild ardours.
Will you not soften your heart?
Will you live nun-like,
without the sweetness of love,
or may I come to you?
To live without the sweetness of love,
is a bitter lot I would not bear,
Then come, my black-eyed one,
come when the stars give their greeting.
2. £¬n O women
O women, women
what ecstasy they bring!
But for women I ¡®d long ago,
have become a monk!
3. ¿ Á¯µnº¢If only I, a humble maiden
If only I, a humble maiden
could glow with the beauty of an evening sunset!
To please one, one alone,
would be a fount of endless bliss.
4. µ±õþ¦ô When your eyes rest on me
When your eyes rest on me,
so kindly and lovingly,
every last trouble
that besets me flees.
O do not let the sweet gole
of that love die down!
No one will ever love you
So truly as I.
5. ¹z³ªµ6 ô À The Nightingale sings so sweetly
The Nightingale sings so sweetly
when the stars are shining.
Love me, beloved heart,
embrace me in the darkness.
6. ð®µ#¬± % µ °Do not stray, dear love
Do not stray, dear love,
in yonder flowery meadow.
it is too wet, too yielding,
for your tender feet.
All flooded are the paths,
and tracks there,
so profusely have my eyes,
there shed tears.
7. ÷¦¡»The branches tremble
The branches tremble,
a little bird
has brushed them in his flight.
Disturbed in like fashion,
My soul trembles
with love, desire and grief
when it thinks of you.
¸² ¡¶±¹wSummertime
Summertime,
And the livin' is easy
Fish are jumpin'
And the cotton is high
Your daddy's rich
And your mamma's good lookin'
So hush little baby
Don't you cry
One of these mornings
You're going to rise up singing
Then you'll spread your wings
And you'll fly to the sky
But till that morning
There's a'nothing can harm you
With daddy and mamma standing by
Summertime,
And the livin' is easy
Fish are jumpin'
And the cotton is high
Your daddy's rich
And your mamma's good lookin'
So hush little baby
Don't you cry
²vûù¡¤¬Àû¶ûù¡¤ù9¸£¡¶À¶wThe Blue Bird
The lake lay blue below the hill,
Oe¡¯r it as I looked there flew
Across the waters, cold and still.
A bird whose wings were palest blue.
The sky above was blue at last,
The sky beneath me blue in blue,
A moment ere the bird had passed.
It caught his image as he flew.
<º²¡¤öa¶°®Àöÿ~³ ú¡·Alice in Wonderland Songs
þÁ®Àõù£¬ÀÁ You Are Old, Father William
You are old, father William," the young man said,
"And your hair has become very white;
And yet you incessantly stand on your head
Do you think, at your age, it is right?
"In my youth," father William replied to his son,
"I feared it might injure the brain;
But, now that I'm perfectly sure I have none,
Why, I do it again and again."
"You are old," said the youth, "as I mentioned before,
And you have grown most uncommonly fat;
Yet you turned a back-somersault in at the door
Pray what is the reason for that?"
"In my youth," said the sage, as he shook his grey locks,
"I kept all my limbs very supple
By the use of this ointment one shilling a box
Allow me to sell you a couple?"
"You are old," said the youth, "and your jaws are too weak
For anything tougher than suet;
Yet you finished the goose, with the bones and the beak
Pray, how did you manage to do it?"
"In my youth," said his fater, "I took to the law,
And argued each case with my wife;
And the muscular strength, which it gave to my jaw,
Has lasted the rest of my life."
"You are old," said the youth, "one would hardly suppose
That your eye was as steady as ever;
Yet you balanced an eel on the end of your nose
What made you so awfully clever?"
"I have answered three questions, and that is enough,"
Said his father. "Don't give yourself airs!
Do you think I can listen all day to such stuff?
Be off, or I'll kick you down stairs.
°õ¹è>³z kWe¡¯re painting the roses red
We¡¯re painting the roses red
In every flower bed,
There¡¯s not a drop of paint to spare
Cos all of the roses everywhere
Whatever their colour must now instead
Be painted deepest red.
Painting the roses red,
That¡¯s what we said!
We¡¯re painting the roses red
And many a tear we¡¯ll shed
Because we know they will not grow
If covered in paint from top to toe
But all of the roses in every bed
Must now be painted red.
Painting the roses red,
That¡¯s what we said!
We¡¯re painting the roses red;
You¡¯ll think we¡¯re off our head
The pink and blue and yellow too,
What¡¯s wrong with the colours that nature grew?
We¡¯re asking you why must they all instead
Be painted deepest red?
Painting the roses red,
That¡¯s what we said.!
We¡¯re painting the roses red
In order to keep our head
The queen insists on a single hue
Not purple or aquamarine or blue.
That¡¯s why all the roses ion every bed
Must now be painted red.
Painting the roses red,
That¡¯s what we said!
Don¡¯t lose your head,
Paint them all red
Or you¡¯ll be dead!
»»ªµ¡¤¹võ¹ìõ¹wRöslein Röslein
Once a boy saw a little rose standing,
Little rose of the field,
She was so young and beautiful,
He dashed there quickly to see her near,
Beholden with abundant joy,
Little rose, little rose, little rose red,
Little rose of the field.
The boy then said: ¡°I shall pick thee,
Little rose of the field.¡±
The little rose said: ¡°I shall stick thee,
Though you¡¯ll always think of me,
I¡¯ll not want to suffer it.¡±
Little rose, little rose, little rose red,
Little rose of the field.
Still the rough boy picked the rose,
Little rose of the field.
The little rose darted thus and pricked,
No prose of pain could help her,
Alas, she must it yet suffer.
Little rose, little rose, little rose red,
Little rose of the field.
Á÷¡¤¸À¼½!¶²¼Àø/ !· Brigg Fair
It was on the fifth of August, the weather fine and fair,
Unto Brigg Fair I did repair; for love I was inclined.
I got up with the lark in the morning, with my heart so full of glee,
Of thinking there to meet my dear; long time I wished to see.
I took hold of her lily white hand, O and merrily was her heart
¡°And now we¡¯re met together I hope we ne¡¯er shall part
For it's meeting is a pleasure, love, and parting is a grief,
But an unconstant lover is worse than any thief.
The green leaves they shall wither and the branches they shall die,
If ever I prove false to her, to the girl that loves me.
¸² ¡¶°®ÀcÁ¡·Our love is here to stay
It's very clear
Our love is here to stay ;
Not for a year
But ever and a day.
The radio and the telephone
And the movies that we know
May just be passing fancies,
And in time may go !
But, oh my dear,
Our love is here to stay.
Together we're
Going a long, long way
In time the Rockies may crumble,
Gibralter may tumble,
There're only made of clay,
But our love is here to stay.
¹þµ¡¤°¢á¶· >²ºwSomewhere over the rainbow
Somewhere over the rainbow
Way up high,
There's a land that I heard of
Once in a lullaby.
Somewhere over the rainbow
Skies are blue,
And the dreams that you dare to dream
Really do come true.
Someday I'll wish upon a star
And wake up where the clouds are far
Behind me.
Where troubles melt like lemon drops
Away above the chimney tops
That's where you'll find me.
Somewhere over the rainbow
Bluebirds fly.
Birds fly over the rainbow.
Why then, oh why can't I?
If happy little bluebirds fly
Beyond the rainbow
Why, oh why can't I?
±£¡¤è /<º²¡¤Áo ¡¶a·Yesterday
Yesterday, all my troubles seemed so far away
Now it looks as though they're here to stay
Oh, I believe in yesterday.
Suddenly, I'm not half to man I used to be,
There's a shadow hanging over me.
Oh, yesterday came suddenly.
Why she had to go I don't know she wouldn't say.
I said something wrong, now I long for yesterday.
Yesterday, love was such an easy game to play.
Now I need a place to hide away.
Oh, I believe in yesterday.
<º²¡¤ þÁ®7ù ¡¶»ö²»µ¥!· Double Trouble
Double, double, toil and trouble.
Fire burn and cauldron bubble.
Double, double, toil and trouble.
Something wicked this way comes!
Eye of newt and toe of frog,
wool of bat and tongue of dog,
Adder's fork and blind-worm's sting,
lizard's leg and owlet's wing.
Double, double, toil and trouble.
Fire burn and cauldron bubble.
Double, double, toil and trouble.
Something wicked this way comes!
In the cauldron boil and bake,
fillet of a fenny snake,
scale of dragon, tooth of wolf,
witches mummy, maw and gulf.
Double, double, toil and trouble.
Fire burn and cauldron bubble.
Double, double, toil and trouble.
Fire burn and cauldron bubble.
Double, double, toil and trouble.
Fire burn and cauldron bubble.
Something wicked this way comes!
Ïà¹ØÒôÀÖ»á
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