Luyện nghe bài hát Lord Chancellor's Nightmare Song

Love unrequited, me of me rest
Love, love, my ardent soul encumbers
Love, nightmare like, lies heavy on me
And weaves itself into my slumbers

When you're lying awake with a dismal
And repose is taboo'd by
I you may use any language
You choose to indulge in, impropriety

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

Then the blanketing tickles, you feel like
Pickles, so sharp is the pricking
And you're hot and you're cross and you and
Toss 'til there's 'twixt you and the ticking

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

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

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

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

And on that journey you find your attorney
Who started this from Devon
a bit undersiz'd and you don't feel surprised
When he tells you only eleven

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

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

And he and the are on bicycles too
they've somehow or other invested in
And he's 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
tickled the sailors, by treating retailers as
Though they were all

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

From the green tree you get grapes
And green pea, cauliflower, pine apple and
While the pastry cook plant brandy will grant
Apple puffs and corners and banburys

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

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

And you've cramp in toes and a fly on your nose
And some fluff in your lung and a feverish
And a thirst that's
And a general that you haven't been sleeping in clover

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