[ti:]
[ar:]
[al:]
[00:05.07]I sang that song on Sunday,
[00:08.99]To witch an idle while,
[00:13.42]I sang that song on Monday,
[00:17.20]As fittest to beguile;
[00:21.24]I sang it as the year outwore,
[00:25.36]And the new slid in;
[00:29.85]I thought not what might shape before
[00:33.72]Another would begin.
[00:38.70]
[00:42.58]I sang that song in summer,
[00:46.41]All unforeknowingly,
[00:50.08]To him as a new-comer
[00:53.70]From regions strange to me:
[00:57.73]I sang it when in afteryears
[01:01.77]The shades stretched out,
[01:05.95]And paths were faint; and flocking fears
[01:10.43]Brought cup-eyed care and doubt.
[01:15.11]
[01:22.32]Sings he that song on Sundays
[01:25.55]In some dim land afar,
[01:29.82]On Saturdays, or Mondays,
[01:33.86]As when the evening star
[01:37.33]Glimpsed in upon his bending face
[01:42.32]And my hanging hair,
[01:50.05]And time untouched me with a trace
[01:53.82]Of soul-smart or despair?