Luyện nghe bài hát Lord Chancellor's Nightmare Song

Love unrequited, me of me rest
Love, hopeless love, my ardent soul
Love, like, lies heavy on me chest
And weaves itself my midnight slumbers

you're lying awake with a dismal headache
And repose is by anxiety
I conceive you may use any
You choose to in, without impropriety

For brain is on fire, the bed-clothes conspire
Of usual slumber to you
First your counter pane goes and uncovers toes
And your sheet demurely from under you

Then the blanketing tickles, you feel mixed
Pickles, so sharp is the pricking
And hot and you're cross and you tumble and
Toss 'til there's nothing 'twixt you and the

Then the bed clothes all creep to the in a heap
And you 'em all up in a tangle
Next your resigns and politely declines
To at its usual angle

Well, you get some repose in the of a dose
With hot eye balls and ever aching
But your teems with such horrible dreams
That you'd much better be waking

For you you are crossing the Channel
And tossing about in a from Harwich
Which is something between a large machine
And a small second class carriage

And you're giving a treat penny ice and cold
To a of friends and relations
a ravenous horde and they all come on board
At Sloane Square and Kensington Stations

And bound on that you find your attorney
Who this morning from Devon
He's a bit and you don't feel surprised
When he tells you he's eleven

Well driving like mad with this singular lad
By the bye the ship's now a wheeler
And you're playing round games, and he calls you bad
When you him that, ties pay the dealer

But this you can't stand so you throw up hand
And you you're as cold as an icicle
In your shirt and your socks the black silk with gold
Crossing Sal'sbury on a bicycle

And he and the crew are on too
Which they've somehow or invested in
And telling the tars all the particulars
Of a company interested in

It's a scheme of devices, to get at low
All good from mixtures to cables
Which the sailors, by treating retailers as
Though they all vegetables

You get a good spades man to a small tradesman
First take off his with a boot tree
And his legs take root, and his fingers will shoot
And they'll blossom and bud a fruit tree

From the green grocer tree you get
And green pea, cauliflower, pine and cranberries
While the pastry cook plant cherry will grant
puffs and three corners and banburys

The shares are a and ever so many
Are taken by and Baring
And as a few are allotted to you
You awake and with a despairing

You're a regular wreck, with a in your neck
And no wonder you snore, for head's on the floor
And you've needles and from your soles to your shins
And your flesh is acreep, for your left leg's

And you've cramp in your and a fly on your nose
And some fluff in lung and a feverish tongue
And a that's intense
And a general sense that you been sleeping in clover

But the darkness has pass'd, and it's at last
And the has been long, ditto, ditto my song
And thank they're both of them over