Luyện nghe bài hát Lord Chancellor's Nightmare Song

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

you're lying awake with a dismal headache
And repose is taboo'd by
I you may use any language
You choose to indulge in, without

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

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

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

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

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

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

And bound on that journey you your attorney
Who started morning from Devon
He's a bit undersiz'd and you feel surprised
When he tells you he's eleven

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

But this you can't stand so you throw up hand
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 crew are on too
they've somehow or other invested in
And he's telling the tars all the
Of a company he's in

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

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

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

The shares are a and ever 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, with a crick in neck
And no wonder you snore, for head's on the floor
And you've needles and pins from your to your shins
And your flesh is acreep, for your leg's asleep

And cramp in your toes 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 haven't been sleeping in

But the darkness has pass'd, and it's daylight at
And the night has long, ditto, ditto my song
And thank goodness both of them over