It was once old and frail,
With books as much as bucket loads of mail...

For your love I long.
It sooths me like a beautiful song...

I'm feeling very lazy,
And a bit hazy...

Love, this world has lost.
War, is what it will cost...

Sing a song of sixpence,
A pocket full of rye...

Where will you be when the beast lashes out?
Will you have faith without a doubt...