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Samuel Hardman

The Beautiful City of God

When we repudiate
The Beautiful City of God
(Indeed, The Beautiful City of Love) ,
Comes the feckless Savage
And the canting Dodd.

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Flute Lads!

I flute the up and down of sun,
I flute the pallid moon,
I flute the rivers deep and wide
And down the merry tide.

I leave the rose so red
And pluck the lily white;
I flute upon my bed
And play into the night.

If I could flute forever
And play a merry tune,
Then I would know no sorrow
In April, May, and June.

So up and down the golden sun
And up the pallid moon,
Flute my lovely lads, flute,
In April, May, and June.

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