Luyện nghe bài hát Lord Chancellor's Nightmare Song

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

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

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

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

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

Well, you get repose in the form of a dose
With hot eye balls and head ever
But slumbering teems with such horrible dreams
That very much better be waking

For you dream you are crossing the
And tossing in a steamer from Harwich
is something between a large bathing machine
And a very small class carriage

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

And bound on that journey you your attorney
Who this morning from Devon
He's a bit undersiz'd and you don't surprised
When he tells you he's only

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

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

And he and the are on bicycles too
Which somehow or other invested in
And he's telling the tars all the
Of a company interested in

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

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

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

The shares are a penny and so many
Are taken by Rothschild and
And as a few are allotted to you
You awake and a shudder despairing

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

And you've cramp in your toes and a fly on nose
And some in your lung and a feverish tongue
And a thirst intense
And a general sense that you haven't sleeping in clover

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