(Lyrics: Lewis Carroll / Music: Bloss-Gold-Lloyd-Echolette)
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All in the golden afternoon full leisurely we glide
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For both our oars, with little skill
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By little arms are plied
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While little hands make vain pretence
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Our wanderings to guide
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Ah, cruel three!
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In such an hour beneath such dreamy wheather
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To beg a tale of breath too weak
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To stir the tiniest feather
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And what can one poor voice avail
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Against three tongues together
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Anon, to sudden silence won, in fancy they persue
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The dream child moving through a land of wonders
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Wild and new
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In friendly chat with bird or beast
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And half believe it true
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And ever as the story drained
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The walls of fancy dry and faintly strove
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That weary one to put the subject by the next time
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It is next time the happy voices cry
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Thus grew the tale of wonderland
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Thus slowly one by one
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It's quaint events were hammered out
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And now the tale is done and home we steer
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A merry crew
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Beneath the setting sun
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All In The Golden Afternoon
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| Alphaville |
