The tenor's voice is spoilt by affectation,
And for the bass, the beast can only bellow;
In read more

The tenor's voice is spoilt by affectation,
And for the bass, the beast can only bellow;
In fact, he had no singing education,
An ignorant, noteless, timeless, tuneless fellow.

You know you haven't got a singing face.

You know you haven't got a singing face.

Sing again, with your dear voice revealing
A tone
Of some world far from ours,
read more

Sing again, with your dear voice revealing
A tone
Of some world far from ours,
Where music and moonlight and feeling
Are one.

God sent his Singers upon earth
With songs of sadness and of mirth,
That they might touch read more

God sent his Singers upon earth
With songs of sadness and of mirth,
That they might touch the hearts of men,
And bring them back to heaven again.

But would you sing, and rival Orpheus' strain.
The wond'ring forests soon should dance again;
The moving read more

But would you sing, and rival Orpheus' strain.
The wond'ring forests soon should dance again;
The moving mountains hear the powerful call.
And headlong streams hand listening in their fall!

Hey! Mr. Tamborine Man, play a song for me.
I'm not sleepy and there is no place I'm going read more

Hey! Mr. Tamborine Man, play a song for me.
I'm not sleepy and there is no place I'm going to.

She hath made me four and twenty nosegays for the
shearers--three-man songmen all, and very good ones; but they read more

She hath made me four and twenty nosegays for the
shearers--three-man songmen all, and very good ones; but they are
most of them means and bases, but one puritan amongst them, and
he sings psalms to hornpipes.

Thou, thou, Lysander, thou hast given her rhymes
And interchanged love tokens with my child;
Thou hast read more

Thou, thou, Lysander, thou hast given her rhymes
And interchanged love tokens with my child;
Thou hast by moonlight at her window sung
With feigning voice verses of feigning love.

When I but hear her sing, I fare
Like one that raises, holds his ear
To some read more

When I but hear her sing, I fare
Like one that raises, holds his ear
To some bright star in the supremest Round;
Through which, besides the light that's seen
There may be heard, from Heaven within,
The rests of Anthems, that the Angels sound.