Testi:
Sarah Brightman The Trees They Grow So High

red and blue, I little thought what love can do. I leaned my back against some oak Thinking that he was a trusty tree; But first he bended, and then he broke, And so

and the flowers. Quickly, lend me your shuttle; I am awaited elsewhere, you know. Here is the Spring passing by; -Good day, painter, good day Your labouring hand grows

in bed, A sudden strange fancy came into her head. -Nor father nor mother shall make me false prove, I'll 'list as a soldier, and follow my love. So

water That is so wide and deep, Saying -Little Sir William, if you are there, Oh pity your mother's weep. -How can I pity your weep, mother, And I so

lovely are sleeping, Go, sleep thou with them; Thus kindly I scatter Thy leaves o'er the bed Where thy mates of the garden Lie senseless and dead. So

broken. Thus in the stilly night Ere slumber's chain has bound me, Sad Mem'ry brings the light Of other days around me. When I remember all The friends, so

I how soon we should part. Still grows the bright sunshine o'er valley and mountain, Still warbles the blackbird his note from the tree; Still trembles

La belle est au jardin d'amour, La belle est au jardin d'amour. Il y a un mois ou sinq semaines. Laridondon, laridondaine. Son pere la cherche partout

Quand j'etais chez mon pere, apprenti pastoureau, il m'a mis dans la lande, pour garder les troupiaux. Troupiaux, troupiaux, je n'en avais guere. Troupiaux