Courtship

Graveyards ?

I suppose they are-

Fun.

This fellow down here-

Who-

Whom did he love and-

She ?-

Did she-did she have cruel-

Eyes?

Did she-oh, those trees!

Why do they hunch their backs and-

Sigh?

Did she-and that wind!

What makes him cramp his chest and-

Groan?

And that brook and the moon, those infernal clouds-

Didn't she-didn't she love him at all?

And those white-eyed, white-eyed stones!

Graveyards?

I suppose they are-

When she loves you-

Fun.

Ah, to be able to die!

SIR HOBBLEDEHOY

Hail, all hail, Sir Hobbledehoy,

Smashing pretty white homes

And pretty white lives

And pretty white dreams

And pretty white skies!

Hail, all hail, Sir Hobbledehoy,

Painting pretty red seas

And pretty red fields

And pretty red sins

An pretty red lies!