Читать книгу Bab Ballads and Savoy Songs - William Schwenck Gilbert - Страница 7

Roll on, thou ball, roll on!

Through pathless realms of Space

 Roll on!

What, though I'm in a sorry case?

What, though I cannot meet my bills?

What, though I suffer toothache's ills?

What, though I swallow countless pills?

Never you mind!

 Roll on!

Roll on, thou ball, roll on!

Through seas of inky air

 Roll on!

It's true I've got no shirts to wear;

It's true my butcher's bill is due;

It's true my prospects all look blue—

But don't let that unsettle you!

Never you mind!

 Roll on!