XVII. so long, farewell


Parece que no hay vuelta de hoja
Y se va
Que lastima, pero adiós
Me despido de ti. Y me voy


Será por el miércoles?


Y no puedo hacer nadaaaaaa¡¡¡¡¡


There's a sad sort of clanging from the clock in the hall
And the bells in the steeple too.
And up in the nursery an ubsurd little bird
Is popping out to say cook-coo cook-coo, cook-coo
Regretfully they tell us cook-coo
But firmly they compell us cook-coo
To say goodbye cook-coo...
To you...

I hate to go and leave this pretty sight
Adieu, adieu, to you and you and you
I'd like to stay and taste my first champagne

I'm glad... to go.... I cannot tell a lie
I fleet, I float, I fleetly flee I fly...
The sun... has gone... to bed and so must I...

The soun of music bso - so long, farewell

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