Gilbert Sullivan The Lord Chancellors Song
Gilbert Sullivan The Lord Chancellors Song
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Allegro
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Piano
6 7 8 9 RECIT. LORD CHAN.
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Love, un re
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Love, hope less love, my ar dent soul en cum bers: Love, night mare
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like, lies hea vy on my chest, And weaves it self
dim.
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in to my mid night slum bers!
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Allegro ma non tropo
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When you're ly ing a wake with a dis mal head ache, and re pose is ta boo'd by anx
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i e ty, I con ceive you may use a ny lan guage you choose to in
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dulge in, with out im pro pri e ty: For your brain is on fire the bed clothes con spire of
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u su al slum ber to plun der you: First your coun ter pane goes, and un
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co vers your toes, and your sheet slips de mure ly from un der you; Then the
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blank et ing tic kles you feel like mixed pic kles so ter ri bly sharp is the
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prick ing, and you're hot, and you're cross, and you tum ble and toss till there's
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no thing 'twixt you and the tick ing, Then the bed clothes all creep to the
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ground in a heap, and you pick 'em all up in a tan gle; Nextyour pil low re signs and po
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lite ly de clines to re main at its u su al an gle! Well, you
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get some re pose in the form of a doze, with hot eye balls and head e ver
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ach ing, But your slum ber ing teems with such hor ri ble dreams that you'd
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ve ry much bet ter be wak ing; For you dream you are cross ing the Channel, and toss ing a
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bout in a steam er from Har wich Which is some thing be tween a large
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bath ing ma chine and a ve ry small se cond class car riage And you're
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giv ing a treat (pen ny ice and cold meat) to a par ty of friends and re
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la tions They're a ra ven ous horde and they all came on board at Sloane
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Square and South Kensing ton Sta tions. And bound on that jour ney you find your at tor ney (who
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start ed that morn ing from De von;) He's a bit un der siz'd and you
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don't feel sur pris'd when he tells you he's on ly e le ven. Well, you're
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driv ing like mad with this sin gu lar lad (by the bye the ship's now a four
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wheel er,) And you're play ing round games, and he calls you bad names when you
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tell him that "ties pay the deal er;" But this you can't stand, so you throw up your hand, and you
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find you're as cold as an i ci cle; In your shirt and your socks (the black
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silk with gold clocks,) cross ing Sal's bu ry Plain on a bi cy cle: And
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he and the crew are on bi cy cles too which they've some how or oth er in
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ves ed in And he's tell ing the tars, all the par tic u lars of a
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com pa ny he's in ter est ed in It's a scheme of de vi ces, to get at low pri ces, all
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goods from cough mix tures to ca bles (Which tic kled the sai lors) by
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treat ing re tail ers, as though they were all ve ge ta bles You
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get a good spades man to plant a small trades man, (first take off his boots with a
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boot tree,) And his legs will take root, and his fin gers will shoot, and the'll
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blos som and bud like a fruit tree From the green gro cer tree you get grapes and green pea, cau li
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flow er, pine ap ple, and cran ber ries, While the pas try cook plant, cher ry
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bran dy will grant, ap ple puffs, and three cor ners, and ban bur ys The
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shares are a pen ny, and e ver so ma ny are ta ken by Roths child and
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Ba ring, And just as a few are al lot ted to you, you a wake with a shud der des
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pair ing You're a reg u lar wreck, with a crick in your neck, and no
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won der you snore, for your head's on the floor, and you've nee dles and pins from your
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soles to your shins, and your flesh is a creep, for your left leg's a sleep, and you've
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cramp in your toes, and a fly in your nose, and some fluff in your lung, and a
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fe ver ish tongue, and a thirst that's in tense, and a gen er al sense that you
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have n't beeb sleep ing in clo ver; But the
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dark ness has pass'd, and it's day light at last, and the night has been
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long dit to, dit to my song And thank good ness they're both of them o
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cre - - scen - - do
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ver!
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