Oh come bird and sing upon the Willow tree, a note of your little hearts well being. To a host of wild flowers, in colors of a rainbow queen! Walk on the soft green grass, for joy in heart it will bring,
clouds waltz across the sky, bees dance on pollen trees, while you sing your birds song, of your little hearts well being.
Sunset will caste its glow upon the face of earth. The milkmaid will dance her cans through meadow land, sing your bird song of little heart well being.
Spread your wings and fly up to the golden sky, the song of your joyful heart. In the twilight hour be heard, The song of the bird be praised, from the lips of a silent listener.
Staples were traveling on the epiderm, thanking the wounds. The dust, the eternal ugliness were growling. Riveting drama: a royal swanking for a macabre heist. A bizarre charisma overtakes the cozy lips. I was green, and I was a cloud
She was not a virgin But with beauty, she did reign She was already married But she arose to be adored She was a widow Her beauty and pride did glow Borne already two children But with second love, she
My adorable academic sanctuary, My big citadel of intellectual prowess, where ignorance is consigned to an ossuary for the once inherent and nagging backwardness. Any who treads your academic trajectory is numbered with the doyen of enlightened ones. Your young