Folly-Land
In Folly-land what witchery!
What pretty looks, what eyes there be;
What gamesome ways; what dimpled smiles;
What lissome limbs; what frolic wiles;
What easy laughter, fresh and clear;
What pranks to play; what jests to hear!
Old Time forgets to shake his sand;
The days go tripping, hand in hand,
In Folly-land, in Folly-land.
In Folly-land, one idle hour,
The moonlight had a wizard power;
Its eerie glamour turned my brain—:
(I would that I were there again!)
We stood together, 'neath the sky:
A bird was chirping drowsily:
He smiled, he sighed, he held my hand.
Ah me! Ah well! we understand
'T was Folly-land, 't was Folly-land.
My sober friend, how worn your looks!
Your heart is in your mouldy books.
Here's half a cobweb on your brow!
I seldom see you jovial now.
Fling down your volumes and be free
To take a pleasure-trip with me.
Come, “Here's my heart, and here's my hand!”
We'll launch our skiff and seek the strand
Of Folly-land, of Folly-land.
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