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