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Traditional English (nineteenth century)
Come all you lads and lasses, I'd have you give attention
To these few lines I'm about to write here.
'Tis of the four seasons of the year that I shall mention,
The beauty of all things doth appear.
And now you are young and all in your prosperity,
Come cheer up your hearts and revive like the spring.
Join off in pairs like the birds in February
That St. Valentine's Day it forth do bring.
Then cometh Spring, which all the land doth nourish;
The fields are beginning to be decked with green.
The trees put forth their buds and the blossoms they do flourish,
And the tender blades of corn on the earth are to be seen.
Don't you see the little lambs by the dams a-playing?
The cuckoo is singing in the shady grove.
The flowers they are springing, the maids they go a-Maying,
In love all hearts seem now to move.
Next cometh Autumn with the sun so hot and piercing;
The sportsman goes forth with his dog and his gun
to fetch down the woodcock, the partridge and the pheasant,
For health and for profit as well as for fun.
Behold with loaded apple-trees the farmer is befriended,
They will fill up his casks that have long laid dry.
All nature seems to weary nhow, her task is nearly ended,
And more of the seasons will come by and by.
When night comes on with song and tale we pass the wintry hours;
By keeping up a cheerful heart we hope for better days.
We tend the cattle, sow the seed, give work unto the ploughers,
With patience wait till winter yields before the sun's fair rays.
And so the world goes round and round, and every time and season
With pleasure and with profit crowns the passage of the year.
And so through every time of life, to him who acts with reason
The beauty of all things doth appear.
Rondom SONGS
The Awful Sweetness Of Escaping SweatLonely This Christmas
On the Run
Number Three
African Friend
Busted
Make It Real
Evil Gypsy / Solomons Theme
For Sure
Meathook
Opus 40
Nuestro Amor
Truest Love
Will Tomorrow Ever Come?
Una Historia Distinta
Hope
The Christmas Song
Here Today
Tidig Morgon
Garden Of Stones
Sorry Seems To Be The Hardest Word
Papa Loved Mama
cruel reminder
Delilah