Those Dancing Days Are Gone
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Those Dancing Days Are Gone - Carla Bruni

Lyrics by:William Butler Yeats

Composed by:Carla Bruni

Come let me sing into your ear

Those dancing days are gone

All that silk and satin gear

Crouch upon a stone

Wrapping that foul body up

In as foul a rag

I carry the sun in a golden cup

The moon in a silver bag

I carry the sun in a golden cup

The moon in a silver bag

Curse as you may I sing it through

What matter if the knave

That the most could pleasure you

The children that he gave

Somewhere sleeping like a top

Under a marble flag

I carry the sun in a golden cup

The moon in a silver bag

I carry the sun in a golden cup

The moon in a silver bag

Come let me sing into your ear

I thought it out this very day

Noon upon the clock

All that silk and satin gear

A man may put pretense away

Who leans upon a stick

May sing and sing until he drop

Whether to maid or hag

I carry the sun in a golden cup

The moon in a silver bag

I carry the sun in a golden cup

The moon in a silver bag

Come let me sing into your ear

Those dancing days are gone

All that silk and satin gear

Crouch upon a stone

Wrapping that foul body up

In as foul a rag

I carry the sun in a golden cup

The moon in a silver bag

Those Dancing Days Are Gone - Carla Bruni

Lyrics by:William Butler Yeats

Composed by:Carla Bruni

Come let me sing into your ear

Those dancing days are gone

All that silk and satin gear

Crouch upon a stone

Wrapping that foul body up

In as foul a rag

I carry the sun in a golden cup

The moon in a silver bag

I carry the sun in a golden cup

The moon in a silver bag

Curse as you may I sing it through

What matter if the knave

That the most could pleasure you

The children that he gave

Somewhere sleeping like a top

Under a marble flag

I carry the sun in a golden cup

The moon in a silver bag

I carry the sun in a golden cup

The moon in a silver bag

Come let me sing into your ear

I thought it out this very day

Noon upon the clock

All that silk and satin gear

A man may put pretense away

Who leans upon a stick

May sing and sing until he drop

Whether to maid or hag

I carry the sun in a golden cup

The moon in a silver bag

I carry the sun in a golden cup

The moon in a silver bag

Come let me sing into your ear

Those dancing days are gone

All that silk and satin gear

Crouch upon a stone

Wrapping that foul body up

In as foul a rag

I carry the sun in a golden cup

The moon in a silver bag

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