All in the Downs the fleet was moored, The streamers waving in the wind, When black-eyed Susan came aboard.
All in the Downs the fleet was moored, The streamers waving in the wind, When black-eyed Susan came aboard.
My last game, streamers flying, world champions. How could you write a better script than this
But who is this, what thing of sea or land, Female of sex it seems, That so bedeck'd, ornate, and gay, Comes this way sailing Like a stately ship Of Tarsus, bound for th' isles Of Javan or Gadire, With all her bravery on, and tackle trim, Sails fill'd, and streamers waving, Courted by all the winds that hold them play, An amber scent of odorous perfume Her harbinger.
The world is glittering with gold, and yellow streamers of sunlight wind through the tree boughs like God was throwing a party
© 2020 Inspirational Stories
© 2020 Inspirational Stories