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A Cradle Song – Sting

Sweet dreams, form a shade
O’er my lovely infant’s head.
Sweet dreams of pleasant streams
By happy, silent, moony beams.

Sweet Sleep, with soft down
Weave thy brows an infant crown.
Sweet Sleep, Angel mild,
Hover o’er my happy child.

Sleep, sleep, happy child,
All creation slept and smil’d.
Sleep, sleep, happy sleep
While o’er thee thy mother weep.

Sweet babe, in thy face
Holy image I can trace,
Sweet babe once like thee,
Maker lay and wept for me.

Wept for me, for thee, for all,
When He was an infant small.
Thou His image ever see,
Heavenly face that smiles on thee.

Smiles on thee, on me, on all,
Who became an infant small,
Infant smiles are His own smiles;
Heaven and earth to peace beguiles.

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Weep You No More, Sad Fountain – Sting

Weep you no more, sad fountains;
What need you flow so fast?
Look how the snowy mountains
Heav’n’s sun doth gently waste.
But my sun’s heav’nly eyes
View not your weeping
That now lies sleeping,
Softly, softly, now softly lies sleeping.

Sleep is a reconciling,
A rest that Peace begets.
Doth not the sun rise smiling
When fair at e’en he sets
Rest you then, rest, sad eyes,
Melt not in weeping
While she lies sleeping,
Softly, softly, now softly lies sleeping.

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What Say You Meg? – Sting

What say you Meg?

There’s an house on the hill that’s come off for sale
It’s a place I have known since I was a lad
And it needs only a carpenter an hour and a nail
Whit the spur of the boy of dream I’ve always had

I climbed up the hill with the evening news
I’ve been sent from the town to deliver
And I stand in the porch and gaze at the views
’til my eyes are bruised by the sunset’s glow and the river

I’d imagined a girl with whom share my life
As dreamers are all tempted to do
And the face I always come up
Was no one else but you

What say you Meg?
What’s the story’s ending
I want you Meg
By my side
What’s the use Meg
To gaze at the view on your own?

For rich or for poorer
In sickness in health
I will see this through Meg
No chance of this ending
Such a view Meg
As we gaze
From the house on the hill

To love and to cherish
To heaven to odd
I’m a hard man to beat
If I’m maybe so bored

And I promise it all by the sword of my brow
Tell me what say you Meg now?

What say you Meg
How’s the story shaping
I want you Meg
As we gaze from the house on the hill

For rich or for poorer
In sickness in health
I’ll be hard to replace
If I say so myself
And I promise it all by the sword of my brow
Tell me what say you Meg now?

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Balulalow – Sting

O my deare hert, young Jesu sweit,
Prepare thy creddil in my spreit
And I sall rock thee in my hert,
And never mair from thee depert.

But I sall praise thee evermore
With sangis sweit unto thy gloir.
The knees of my hert sall I bow,
And sing that richt Balulalow.

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