....and life is breathed into the sleeping corpse............!

Okay, I will quickly say how I sing this and apply the folk process sandpaper..

'..the POWER of passion's PLEDGE.'
'..OF ARTIST'S HONED and who have known,..'(cuts out the known/known problem and scans)
'..When the angel woos the clay he'll loose, (PAUSE)..his wings aaat the dawn(PAUSE)of day-yy'


>>'Dark-Haired Miriam'(MuddleC's arrangement)(Unaccompanied)
      
On Raglan Road OF an autumn day,
I met her first and knew
That her dark hair would weave a snare,
that I might one day rue;
I saw the danger, yet I walked ,
along the enchanted way,
And I said, let grief be a fallen leaf,
at the dawning of the day.

On Grafton Street in November,
we tripped lightly along the ledge
Of A deep ravine where can be seen,
the POWER of passion's pledge,
The Queen of Hearts still making tarts
and I not making hay -
O I loved too much, and by such and such,
is happiness thrown away.

I gave her gifts of the mind,
I gave her the secret sign
OF ARTIST'S HONED and who have known,
the true gods of sound and stone
And word and tint, I did not stint
for I gave her poems to say.
With her own name there and her long dark hair
like clouds over fields of May

On a quiet street, where old ghosts meet,
I see her walking now
Away from me so hurriedly, my reason must allow
That I had wooed not as I should,
a creature made of clay -
When the angel woos the clay he'll loose,
his wings at the dawn of day.

Original version by Patrick Kavanagh

I'll get my coat