Fun ITT we post random song lyrics out of context

There may be trouble ahead,
But while there's music and moonlight,
And love and romance,
Let's face the music and dance.

 

We've just been introduced
i do not know you well
but when the music started
something drew me to your side

so many men and girls
are in each other's arms
it make me think we might be
similarly occupied

shall we dance
on a bright cloud of music
shall we dance
shall we dance
shall we then say goodnight and mean goodbye
oh perchance when the last little star has left the sky
shall we still be together with our arms around eachother
and shall you be my new romance
on the clear understanding that this kind of thing can happen
shall we dance shall we dance shall we dance

 

O'er the hills and o'er the main,
Through Flanders, Portugal and Spain,
King George commands and we obey,
Over the hills and far away.

 

For we've received orders to sail for old England
We hope in a short time to see you again

 

It's been a long day without you, my friend
And I'll tell you all about it when I see you again

 

It's a long way to Tipperary,
It's a long way to go.
It's a long way to Tipperary
To the sweetest girl I know!

Goodbye Piccadilly,
Farewell Leicester Square!
It's a long long way to Tipperary,
But my heart's right there.

 

Hold on my heart
Just hold on to that feeling
We both know we've been here before
We both know what can happen

 

Every truly cultured music student knows,
You must learn your scales and your arpeggios,
Bring the music ringing from your chest and not your nose,
While you sing your scales and your arpeggios.

If you're faithful to your daily practicing,
You will find your progress is encouraging,
Do mi so mi do me so mi fa la so it goes,
When you do your scales and your arpeggios.

Though at first it seems as though it doesn't show,
Like a tree ability will bloom and grow,
If you're smart you'll learn by heart what every artist knows,
You must sing your scales and your arpeggios.

 

Sing. Sing a song. Sing out loud. Sing out strong. Sing of good things, not bad. Sing of happy, not sad. Sing. Sing a song. Make it simple. To last your whole life long. Don't worry that it's not good enough for anyone else to hear. Sing . Sing a song.

 

Never gonna give you up

 

Which pet's address is the finest in Paris?
Which pets possess the longest pedigree?
Which pets get to sleep on velvet mats?
Naturellement, the Aristocats.
Which pets are blessed with the fairest forms and faces?
Which pets know best all the gentle social graces?
Which pets live on cream and loving pats?
Naturellement, the Aristocats.

 

Eat meat on a Friday, that's all right
Even like steak on a Saturday night
I can ***** the best at your social do's
I get high in the evening sniffing pots of glue, oh, oh, oh

 

Working all day,
For a pittance of pay,
Then blow it all on Saturday night,
And you kiss the dames,
But you don't ask their names,
That's livin' alright.
(That's livin' alright)

 

This back-breakin', bone-shakin', belly-achin', hard-workin'
Two more hours to go
Yes, it's keeping me alive doin' nine to five
And I ain't got nothin to show
Pretty soon I'll be leavin'
With the wages I'm receivin'
But I know it's gonna be all right
Come on, babe, and take me away
We got some money to spend tonight

 

We work all day, we work all night,
We never learned to read or write,
We're happy-hearted roustabouts.

 

Deep down in Louisiana close to New Orleans
Way back up in the woods among the evergreens
There stood a log cabin made of earth and wood
Where lived a country boy named Johnny B. Goode
Who never ever learned to read or write so well
But he could play a guitar just like a ringing a bell

 

An old country singer lay dying,
At the end of a long, weary life,
And he lay with his loved ones around him:
Three dogs, seven horse, and a wife.
"O Mary, the voices are calling.
They're calling and telling me to go,
But before I set out on my journey,
There one thing that I gotta know:

CHORUS:
"Do they play country music in Heaven?
Are there still four square beats to a bar?
Can I find a backing group amongst the angels?
Can I swap my plucking harp for a guitar?
'Cos I can't, I just can't leave my music.
It's the thing that has served me so well;
So if I can't play my music in Heaven,
I'll go play my music in Hell."

And with that, he lay back on his pillow
With a sad dreamy look in his eye,
And his soul saddled up and departed
For that pearly stockade in the sky.
And there stood St Peter a-waiting,
And he opened those big rhinestone gates.
"But before I go in," said the singer,
"St Peter, I must know my fate."

CHORUS:

"Come inside now," said Peter, "and rest you.
Change out of them dirty old things.
Try these breeches of snowy white buckskin
And a waistcoat with slits for your wings.
Yes, you can play your music in Heaven—
And your guitar is safe in your hands.
There is no room in Hell for a singer
'Cos it's too full of rock-and-roll bands."

So he played country music in Heaven,
And there were four square beats to the bar,
And he found a backing group among the angels,
And he swapped his plucking harp for a guitar.

 

It came upon the midnight clear
That glorious song of old
From Angels bending near the earth
To touch their harps of gold

Peace on the earth good will to men
From Heaven's all-gracious King
The world in solemn stillness lay
To hear the Angels sing

 

The First Noel, the angels did say,
Was to certain poor shepherds in fields as they lay,
In fields where they lay keeping their sheep,
On a cold winter's night that was so deep.

 

I don't know about you, but I'm feeling 22,
everything will be all right if you keep me next to you,
you don't know about me, but I'll bet you want to,
everything will be all right if we just keep dancing like we're 22, 22

 

When you're sixteen going on seventeen,
Waiting for life to start,
Sombody kind who touches your mind,
Will suddenly touch your heart.

 

And the heart is a lonely hunter
With only one desire
To find some lasting comfort
In the arms of a lover's fire
Driven by a desperate hunger
To the dark of the neon lights
Oh the heart is a lonely hunter
When there's no sign of a love in sight

 

Ere Mor the Peacock flutters, ere the Monkey People cry,
Ere Chil the Kite swoops down a furlong sheer,
Through the jungle very softly flits a shadow and a sigh—
He is Fear, O Little Hunter, he is Fear!
Very softly down the glade runs a waiting, watching shade,
And the whisper spreads and widens far and near.
And the sweat is on thy brow, for he passes even now—
He is Fear, O Little Hunter, he is Fear!

Ere the moon has climbed the mountain, ere the rocks are ribbed with light,
When the downward-dipping trails are dank and drear,
Comes a breathing hard behind thee—snuffle-snuffle through the night—
It is Fear, O Little Hunter, it is Fear!
On thy knees and draw the bow; bid the shrilling arrow go;
In the empty, mocking thicket plunge the spear!
But thy hands are loosed and weak, and the blood has left thy cheek—
It is Fear, O Little Hunter, it is Fear!

When the heat-cloud sucks the tempest, when the slivered pinetrees fall,
When the blinding, blaring rain-squalls lash and veer,
Through the war-gongs of the thunder rings a voice more loud than all—
It is Fear, O Little Hunter, it is Fear!
Now the spates are banked and deep; now the footless boulders leap—
Now the lightning shows each littlest leaf-rib clear—
But thy throat is shut and dried, and thy heart against thy side
Hammers: Fear, O Little Hunter—this is Fear!

 

Come on baby, don't fear the reaper
Baby take my hand, don't fear the reaper
We'll be able to fly, don't fear the reaper
Baby I'm your man

 

But no, it can't be true, I could fly if I wanted to,
Like a bird in the sky, if I believed I could fly
Why, I'd fly...

Clearly, I will go sailing no more.