Oh would I were dead now, Or up in my bed now, To cover my head now, And have a good cry!
The best of friends fall out, and so his teeth had done some years ago.
He lies like a hedgehog rolled up the wrong way, Tormenting himself with his prickles.
Some dreams we have are nothing else but dreams, Unnatural and full of contradictions; Yet others of our most romantic schemes, Are something more than fictions.
O bed! O bed! delicious bed! That heaven upon earth to the weary head.
I remember, I remember The fir-trees dark and high; I used to think their slender tops Were close against the sky; It was a childish ignorance, But now 't is little joy To know I'm farther off from heaven Than when I was a boy.