1.
The rage is now for Jenny Lind,
And all must hear her warbling clear,
No matter how we raise the wind,
Her notes are sweet and dear.
All Europe says shes quite au fait
At changing notes her own for ours;
And when you hear her seraph lay,
You think of love and flowers.
[REFRAIN]
Oh! Jenny Lind!-- sweet Jenny Lind!
Around you shall the proudest throng;
While those who cannot raise the wind,
Shall outside hear your song.
2.
O you're a bird with golden wings,
A nightingale they say your are,
And one so rare, that when she sings
Her notes are over par.
All other warblers stand aghast
And "spinning Jennies" are no go;
Old piping Boreas cries "avast!"
Aeolus sighs "oh, no!"
[REFRAIN]
Oh! Jenny Lind!-- sweet Jenny Lind!
Around you shall the proudest throng;
While those who cannot raise the wind,
Shall outside hear your song.
3.
The shops are full of Jenny Lind,
Her shawls and gloves are every where;
And drygoods flaunt upon the wind,
Just such as Jenny's are.
No songs are sweet but those you sing,
No shoes fit well without your name;
Your bonnet-- O that's just the thing
For miss or stately dame.
[REFRAIN]
Oh! Jenny Lind!-- sweet Jenny Lind!
Around you shall the proudest throng;
While those who cannot raise the wind,
Shall outside hear your song.
4.
My daughters-- they're all Jenny Lind,
My own cravat has Jenny ties;
My wife around her neck has pinn'd
A kerchief with her eyes.
The cat and all her kittens too
To Jenny Lind's array belong;
And every time they howl or mew,
I feel the "power of song."
[REFRAIN]
Oh! Jenny Lind!-- sweet Jenny Lind!
Around you shall the proudest throng;
While those who cannot raise the wind,
Shall outside hear your song.
Teksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa. |
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