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MERCUTIO IN PENNY-LOAFERS
twelve were my kin; e-lev-en, my broth-ers ten were my slaves, oh, where have they gone nine were my fools, eight were my her-oes se-ven, my min-strels draf-ting their songs six were the en-e-my, five were my friends how might i see them and touch them a-gain four were my spies, three were my lov-ers two were my bib-les one was my tes-ta-ment
for-ward i flew, fast toward to-mor-row of-ten for-get-ting the tasks of to-day ig-nor-ing the ruins of yes-ter-day's free-doms these in my mind for-e-ver will stay oh what a pi-ty i've ne-ver out-grown cot-ton-tailed dreams that pro-fit me none but still i've got time, and still i've got wis-dom and, come the chill my har-vest-ing will be done
loud-ly i laughed with the outs of my in-no-cence sound-ly i scoffed at the knights of my day like mer-cu-ti-o, in pen-ny-loaf-er shoes bend-ing the truth to my blade
loud-ly i laughed with the outs of my in-no-cence sound-ly i scoffed at the knights of my day like mer-cu-ti-o, in pen-ny-loaf-er shoes bend-ing the truth to my blade, and bleed-ing my best years a-way
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