What lies at the back o' the moon? The Mill o' Dreams, the Mill o' Dreams. Sleep will take you to it soon, the Mill o' Dreams, the Mill o' Dreams. Lay your head on Night's soft breast, say the prayer you love the best, Shut your eyes and be at rest, little dear, Stars are but sprinklings of the moon. The Mill o' Dreams, the Mill o' Dreams Has many a tale to spin and croon, the Mill o' Dreams. Sweet, then let me go with you. I am old to journey through the night unless you take me, too. Countless years ago it seems Since I knew the Mill, the Mill o' Dreams back o' the moon.
The Mill o' Dreams
Song Cycle by Eric Coates (1886 - 1957)
A cycle of four little songs
1. Back o' the Moon
Language: English
Text Authorship:
Go to the general single-text view
Researcher for this page: Malcolm Wren [Guest Editor]2. Dream o' Nights
Language: English
Do you ever dream o' nights, little sleepy eyes? Do you ever dream o' dragons dread and grim? And a fairy prince who'd rescue you from danger If you would give your life and love to him? Do you ever dream o' catching little fishes, Or did you ever dream you caught a whale? And don't you know a certain merry mermaid Whose legs have gone and grown into a tail? Do you ever dream o' Heaven, little sleepy eyes? And angels with their lovely rainbow wings? Or do you only dream about your mother And the funny little lullabies she sings?
Text Authorship:
Go to the general single-text view
Researcher for this page: Malcolm Wren [Guest Editor]3. The Man in the Moon
Language: English
Is the man in the moon a silversmith who fashions the stars? And is it true that he pickles them too, and sells them in jars? And when he smiles on a clear, warm night, is he crying his wares? And when the clouds all smother him up, is he saying his prayers? Oh, I wonder, is it true? That the man in the moon is a silversmith who fashions the stars? And is it true that he pickles them too, and sells them in jars? Oh, I wonder, is it true?
Text Authorship:
Go to the general single-text view
Researcher for this page: Malcolm Wren [Guest Editor]4. Bluebells
Language: English
Today the bluebells in the wood a purple carpet weave, And here and there forget-me-nots a spot of azure leave. The bracken fronds are all a-curl, and when the night is deep A peal of fairy music soft the wooded glen will sweep. So listen, little curly head, if you the tale would tell, Of how you heard the fairy bells a-ringing in the dell. A-ringing chimes and lullabies, all sweet and soft and low, That sleepy little curly head to Blanket Fair may go. Lullaby!
Text Authorship:
Go to the general single-text view
Researcher for this page: Malcolm Wren [Guest Editor]Total word count: 399