poets of my name Sang of penumbral victories That sorcery had claimed The Graal and mighty Caliburn As votive offerings to an England re-arisen Under
hair with stardust Shower her eyes with dreams Tell her we'll meet when roses bloom Kiss her with your silvery beams Dreamy old New England moon Dreamy old New England
will Goodbye England's rose, may you ever grow in our hearts You were the grace that placed itself where lives were torn apart Goodbye England's rose
) fell fast asleep, But ere the morn at fair daylight, sore, sore did she weep Sore, sore did she weep; sore, sore did she mourn But ere she rose and
England's rose and pride I'd die for you my guardian light For the land and for the steel For the Queen my love is real I'd die for England's rose and
[NOVA CASPER (rec Brighton England still has not been paid!!!!!):] Diamonds are forever they're all I need to please me they can't stimulate or tease
Away, ye gay landscapes, ye gardens of roses! In you let the minions of luxury rove; Restore me the rocks where the snow-flake reposes, Though they are
dawn comes stealin' them away The fruit of the wild rose Hangs here with summer gone Voluptuous crimson As the days become colder The fruit of the wild rose
say it now Remember what I told you If they hated me they will hate you England's not the mythical land of Madame George and roses It's the home of police
a day When the winds blew and the waters raged But it was just a part of the life he made for himself Runnin' the coast of New England The ship heaved
day, When the winds blew and the waters raged. But it was just a part of the life he made for himself, Running the coast of New England. The ship heaved
this song for everyone Who stands up for their rights [Chorus] Every brother is a Star Every sister is a star Every brother is a star Every sister is a star* Sister rose
ever will Goodbye England's rose May you ever grow in our hearts You were the grace that placed itself Where lives were torn apart Goodbye England's rose
a-blazing, And he lost the Bonny Bunch of Roses, O. 5. "Now son, be not too venturesome, For England is the heart of oak, And England, Ireland, Scotland
me A thousand glass eyes were staring In a cellar full of antique dolls I found an old piano And sweet chords rose up in waxed New England halls While
[Dover, England: September 1594 (the recollections of a war-weary mariner)] Hearken boy; for I would tell thee a tale before we set sail for the Bay
bad yeah we out and bad Everybody yeah we out and bad T.G, Spanglers out and bad Junglist, roses out and bad People them a England out and bad And di