Songs of Innocence

Songs of innocence.

Piping down the valleys wild.
Piping songs of pleasant glee.
On a cloud I saw a child.
And he laughing said to me.

Pipe a song about a lamb.
So I piped with merry cheer.
Piper pipe that song again.
So I piped, he wept to hear.

Drop thy pipe, thy happy pipe.
Sing thy songs of happy cheer.
So I sung the same again.
While he wept with joy to hear.

Piper sit thee down and write.
In a book that all may read.
So he vanished from my sight.
And I plucked a hollow reed.

And I made a rural pen.
And I stained the water clear.
And I wrote my happy songs.
Every child may joy to hear.

The sun does arise.
And make happy the skies.
The merry bells ring.
To welcome the spring.
The skylark and thrush.
The birds of the bush.
Sing louder around.
To the bells cheerful sound.
While our sports shall be seen.
On the echoing green.

Songs of innocence.
Songs of innocence.
Songs of innocence.
Songs of innocence.

Father, father, where are you going.
Oh do not walk so fast.
Speak father, speak to your little boy.
Or else I shall be lost.

The night was dark, no father was there.
The child was wet with dew.
The mire was deep, and the child did weep.
And away the vapor flew.

Songs of innocence.
Songs of innocence.
Songs of innocence.
Songs of innocence.

The little boy lost in the lonely fen.
Led by the wandering light, began to cry.
But god ever nigh, appeared like his father in white.
He kissed the child and by the hand led.
And to his mother brought.
Who in sorry pale, through the lonely dale.
The little boy weeping sought.

Songs of innocence.
Songs of innocence.
Songs of innocence.
Songs of innocence.

Sweet babe in thy face.
Holy image I can trace.
Sweet babe once like me.
Thy maker lay and wept for me.
Wept for me, for thee, for all.
When he was an infant small.
There his image ever see.
Heavenly face that smiles on thee.

Songs of innocence.
Songs of innocence.
Songs of innocence.
Songs of innocence.

Songs of innocence.
Songs of innocence.
Songs of innocence.
Songs of innocence.

A little black thing among the snow.
Crying weep weep, with notes of woe.
Where is thy father and mother say.
The are both gone up to the church to pray.

Because I was happy upon the heath.
And smiled among the winter snow.
The clothed me in the clothes of death.
And taught me to sing the notes of woe.

And because I am happy.
And dance and sing.
They think they have done me no injury.
And have gone to praise god
and his priest and king.
Who make up a heaven of our misery.