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 We are tenting tonight on the old camp ground,
 Give us a song to cheer.  
 We are tenting tonight on the old camp ground,
 Give us a song to cheer. 
 A song of hate is a song of Hell;
 Some there be who sing it well.
  Let read more 
 A song of hate is a song of Hell;
 Some there be who sing it well.
  Let them sing it loud and long,
   We lift our hearts in a loftier song:
    We life our hearts to Heaven above,
     Singing the glory of her we love,
      England. 
 Men, even when alone, lighten their labors by song, however rude 
it may be.
 [Lat., Etiam singulorum fatigatio read more 
 Men, even when alone, lighten their labors by song, however rude 
it may be.
 [Lat., Etiam singulorum fatigatio quamlibet se rudi modulatione 
solatur.] 
 I cannot sing the old songs
 Though well I know the tune,
  Familiar as a cradle-song
 read more 
 I cannot sing the old songs
 Though well I know the tune,
  Familiar as a cradle-song
   With sleep-compelling croon;
    Yet though I'm filled with music,
     As choirs of summer birds,
      "I cannot sing the old songs"--
       I do not know the words. 
 The song on its mighty pinions
 Took every living soul, and lifted it gently to heaven.  
 The song on its mighty pinions
 Took every living soul, and lifted it gently to heaven. 
 I can not sing the old songs now!
 It is not that I deem them low,
  'Tis read more 
 I can not sing the old songs now!
 It is not that I deem them low,
  'Tis that I can't remember how
   They go. 
 Verse sweetens toil, however rude the sound;
 She feels no biting pang the while she sings,
  Nor read more 
 Verse sweetens toil, however rude the sound;
 She feels no biting pang the while she sings,
  Nor as she turns the giddy wheel around,
   Revolves the sad vicissitudes of things. 
 He play'd an ancient ditty long since mute,
 In Provence call'd, "La belle dame sans merci."  
 He play'd an ancient ditty long since mute,
 In Provence call'd, "La belle dame sans merci." 
 Now, good Cesario, but that piece of song,
 That old and antique song we heard last night.
  read more 
 Now, good Cesario, but that piece of song,
 That old and antique song we heard last night.
  Methought it did relieve my passion much,
   More than light airs and recollected terms
    Of these most brisk and giddy-paced times.
     Come, but one verse.