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DANNY
BOY
Oh Danny boy, the pipes, the pipes are calling
From glen to glen, and down the mountain side
The summer's gone, and all the roses falling
Tis you, tis you must go, and I must bide
But come you back when summer's in the meadow
Or when the valley's hushed and white with snow
Tis I'll be there in sunshine or in shadow
Oh Danny boy, oh Danny boy, I love you so
But if you come, and all the flowers are dying
And if I am dead, as dead I may well be
You'll come and find the place where I am lying
And kneel and say an Ave there for me
And I shall hear, tho soft you tread above me
And all my dreams shall warm and sweeter be
If you will bend and tell me that you love me
Then I will sleep in peace until you come to me
LONDONDERRY AIR
Would God I were the tender apple blossom
That floats and falls from off the twisted bough,
To lie and faint within you silken bosom,
Within your silken bosom as that does now!
Or would I were a little burnish'd apple
For you to pluck me, gliding by so cold,
While sun and shade you robe of lawn will dapple,
Your robe of lawn, and you hair's spun gold.
Yea, would to God I were among the roses
That lean to kiss you as you float between,
While on the lowest branch a bud uncloses,
A bud uncloses, to touch you, queen.
Nay, since you will not love, would I were growing,
A happy daisy, in the garden path;
That so your silver foot might press me going,
Might press me going even unto death.
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London Derriere
© 1990 W. J. Bethancourt III
I watch you walk upon the streets of London.
Your mini-skirt stretched tight, and looking sweet.
I watch you walk, and walk into a lampost.
I didn't see, upon the London street.
So turn your back, and wiggle softly from me!
With mini-skirt, (perhaps, no underwear!)
Your legs are great! But, by the Gods above me!
I watch your wondrous London derriere!
The Paris girls are wonders full of beauty,
And California grows the Long-stemmed L.A. rose,
Berlin nights are full of life, and lovely,
But London girls don't wear no panty-hose!
So turn your back, and wiggle softly from me!
And let me watch, and dream a dream so rare:
In my hotel, you naked there above me.
Sit on my face with your London derriere! |
