I'm at your side, Love, I'm at your side
My Heart is begging for your attention
Why should seeking that be a thing of contention?
To you my truest words abide
I'm at your side, Love, I'm at your side

I'm at your side, Love, I'm at your side
I'm tired of trapsing the labyrinth
And exalting you on passion's plinth
I wish I could go, retreat and hide
But I'm at your side, Love, I'm at your side

I'm at your side, Love, I'm at your side
There's nothing left for me to say
I wish that I could have my way
But I'll be cynic expecting love to, away, glide
When I'm at your side, Love, at your side

I am very passionate about the object of my heart's affection
I try to get the message over that I am enamoured of your flame
But often I get slapped down for going my passion's direction
For having loved I have nevertheless been made ashamed
Thinking, ruminating on the ******* form of Beauty
At least that's how you have always appeared to me
You and your sermon are my spirit's entreaty
That beseeches, implores my mind mesmerisingly
The perfect opportunity of Love I often destroy
For ignorance of how to give perfect care
In my moods I fall and fall, like Troy
Attesting to my spirit's shame and the poverty there
    But still I'd love to love and love again
    With one who can teach me how to make amends

I have a fairy by my side
Which says I must not sleep,
When once in pain I loudly cried
It said "You must not weep"
If, full of mirth, I smile and grin,
It says "You must not laugh"
When once I wished to drink some gin
It said "You must not quaff".

When once a meal I wished to taste
It said "You must not bite"
When to the wars I went in haste
It said "You must not fight".

"What may I do?" at length I cried,
Tired of the painful task.
The fairy quietly replied,
And said "You must not ask".

Moral: "You mustn't."

"Will you walk a little faster?" said a whiting to a snail,
"There's a porpoise close behind us, and he's treading on my tail.
See how eagerly the lobsters and the turtles all advance!
They are waiting on the shingle--will you come and join the dance?
Will you, won't you, will you, won't you, will you join the dance?
Will you, won't you, will you, won' t you, won' t you join the dance?

"You can really have no notion how delightful it will be
When they take us up and throw us, with the lobsters, out to sea!"
But the snail replied, "Too far, too far!" and gave a look askance--
Said he thanked the whiting kindly, but he would not join the dance.
Would not, could not, would not, could not, would not join the dance.
Would not, could not, would not, could not, could not join the dance.

"What matters it how far we go?" his scaly friend replied.
"There is another shore, you know, upon the other side.
The further off from England the nearer is to France--
Then turn not pale, beloved snail, but come and join the dance.
Will you, won't you, will you, won't you, won't you join the dance?
Will you, won' t you, will you, won't you, won't you join the dance ?"

'Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
did gyre and gimble in the wabe.
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe.
"Beware the Jabberwock, my son!
The jaws that bite, the claws that catch!
Beware the Jubjub bird, and shun
the frumious Bandersnatch!"
He took his vorpal sword in hand:
Long time the maxome foe he sought-
So rested he by the Tumtum tree,
And stood a while in thought.
As in uffish thought he stood,
The Jabberwock, with eyes of flame,
Came whiffling through the tulgey wood,
And burbled as it came.
One, two! One, two! And through and through
The vorpal blade went snicker-snack.
He left it dead, and with its head
He went galumphing back.
"Has thou slain the Jabberwock?
Come to my arms, my beamish boy!
O frabjous day! Calloh! Callay!
He chortled in his joy.
'Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe:
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe.