PART ONE

Introduction

Piping down the valleys wild, Piping songs of pleasant glee, On a cloud I saw a child, And he laughing said to me:
‘Pipe a song about a Lamb.’ So I piped with merry chear. Piper, pipe that song again.’ So I piped, he wept to hear.
‘Drop thy pipe, thy happy pipe, sing thy songs of hapy chear.’ so I sung the same again, While he wept with joy to hear.
‘Piper, sit thee down and write In a boo that a may read.’ So he vanish’d from my sight. and pluck’d a hollow reed, And I made a rura pen,
And I stain’d the water clear, And I wrote my hapy songs Every child may joy to hear.
The Shepherd

How sweet is the Shepherd’s sweet lot! From the morn to the evening he strays; He shall follow his sheep all the day, And his tongue shall be filled with praise.
For he hears the lamb’s innocent call, And he hears the ewe’s tender rely; He is watchful while they are in peace, For they know when their Shepherd is nigh.

The Blossom

Merry, Merry Sparrow, Under leaves so green, A happy Blossom Sees yu swift as arrow Seek your cradle narrow Near my Bosom.
Pretty, Pretty Robin, Under leaves so green, A happy Blossom Hears you sobbing, sobbing, Pretty, Pretty Robin,
Near my Bosom.

PART TWO

The Lamb

Little Lamb, who made thee? Dost thou know who made thee? Gave thee life & bid thee feed by the stream & o’er the mead; Gave thee clothing of delight, Softest clothing, wooly, bright; gave thee such a tender voice, Making all the vales rejoice? Little Lamb, who made thee? dost thou know who made thee?
Little Lamb, I’ll tell thee, Little Lamb, I’ll tell thee: He is called by thy name, For he calls himself a Lamb. He is meek & he is mild,
He became a little child: I a child & thou a lamb, We are called by his name. Little Lamb, God bless thee. Little Lamb, God bless thee.

The Tyger

Tyger, Tyger, burning bright In the forests of the night, What immortal hand or eye Could frame thy fearful symmetry?
In what distant deeps or skies Burnt the fire of thine eyes. On what wings dare he aspire What the hand dare seize the fire?
And what shoulder, & what art, Could twist the sinews of thy heart? And when thy heart began to beat, What dread hand? & what dread feet!
What the hammer? what the chain? In what furnace was thy brain? W'hat the anvil? what dread grasp Dare its deadly terrors clasp?
When the stars threw down their spears And water'd heaven'with their tears, Did he smile his work to see? Did he who made the Lamb make thee? Tyger, Tyger, burning bright
In the forests of the night, What immortal hand or eye Dare frame thy fearful symmetry?