Theatre Of Tragedy - Cheerful Dirge текст песни

Play by Raymond, Music by Theatre of Tragedy
Hap mirthfulness! - Oh! joy of grand riddance;
Undress me my hauberk! - the wyvern hath errant'd.
Ire of yore - bard of e'eryears -
I deem the brood hath wan'd -
fore'ermore?!
Fro the chasm of the bosom, bale I hand back.
Hark! my dove - henceforth I bulwark thee! -
Feathers of swans in my pillow - I cede my heart.
Make haste! - I pray - respond my plea!
Lo! - a sire of great awe - a knight of
many battles!
...And of kinsmen weeping for the slain!
Please! - heed my words;
In thy sorrow I will kiss thy tears -
In thy bliss I will take thee by thy hand -
The sapor of grapes thou shalt savor -
And harken the nightingale sing oh so blithely!
On his knees...A plea to harvest
roses;
No heed for the thorns yon count!
Wherefore this gildd proffer?
Wherefore not pay court to a maid
more fair? -
Morn of a joyous day! Hower 'twixt
weed!
Fertile desert! Cheerful dirge!
Misery me not! - man nor beast; envy
me;
Lest 'tis an act of wont!
Many are the drapes that my past
bury -
Ineffable feeling indulgeth in battles!
Tisn't what thou vambrace'st thy words with!!;
I bethink dotingly only thy weal -
Forgive me for deeming thee direfully -
Therein abdiding with thee
Yet I was a trifle daunt'd.
Is for me the grandest boon!