The walls of books around him, dense with the past, formed a kind of insulation against the present world and its disasters.

Ross MacDonald

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Balulalow
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Ca sĩ: Sting
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I come from hevin which to tell
The best nowells that e'er befell
To you thir tythings trew I bring
And I will of them say and sing.
 
This day to you is born ane child
Of Marie meik and Virgin mild
That bliss it bairn bening and kind
Sall you rejoice baith hart and mind.
 
Lat us rejoyis and be blyth
And with the Hyrdis go full swyth
And see what God fo his grace hes done
Throu Christ to bring us to his throne
 
My saull and life stand up and see
Wha lyis in ane cribbe of tree
What Babe is that, sa gude and fair
It is Christ, God's Son and Air.
 
O my deir hart, yung Jesus sweit
Prepair thy creddil in my spreit!
And I sall rock thee in my hart
And never mair fra thee depart.
 
But I sall praise thee evermoir
With sangis sweit unto thy gloir
The kneis of my hart sall I bow
And sing that rycht Balulalow.