quinta-feira, novembro 30, 2006

twinkle little star

When I was a little girl I asked my mother what would I be, would I be pretty, would I de rich, here what she said to me: Que sera, sera, whatever will be, will be, the future not ours to seek, que sera, sera, what will be, will be When I was a little girl I asked my mother what would I be, would I be pretty, would I de rich, here what she said to me: Que sera, sera, whatever will be, will be, the future not ours to seek, que sera, sera, what will be, will be When I was a little girl I asked my mother what would I be, would I be pretty, would I de rich, here what she said to me: Que sera, sera, whatever will be, will be, the future not ours to seek, que sera, sera, what will be, will be When I was a little girl I asked my mother what would I be, would I be pretty, would I de rich, here what she said to me: Que sera, sera, whatever will be, will be, the future not ours to seek, que sera, sera, what will be, will be When I was a little girl I asked my mother what would I be, would I be pretty, would I de rich, here what she said to me: Que sera, sera, whatever will be, will be, the future not ours to seek, que sera, sera, what will be, will be When I was a little girl I asked my mother what would I be, would I be pretty, would I de rich, here what she said to me: Que sera, sera, whatever will be, will be, the future not ours to seek, que sera, sera, what will be, will be When I was a little girl I asked my mother what would I be, would I be pretty, would I de rich, here what she said to me: Que sera, sera, whatever will be, will be, the future not ours to seek, que sera, sera, what will be, will be, que sera, sera, what will be, will be, que sera, sera, what will be, will be, que sera, sera, what will be, will be, que sera, sera, what will be, will be, que sera, sera, what will be
The devil's will be,serra, serra, the devil's will be, serra,serra,serra, the devil's will be, serra,serra,serra, serra.

1 comentário:

M disse...

Serra, serra o pinheirinho de Natal,
Leva-o para casa para enfeitar,
Depois de um mês a admirar
E a vê-lo definhar,
O musgo do presérpio a amarelecer
Serra, serra e queima-o,
Pedaço a pedaço
Aquece a casa e a alma a chama amarela
Encantada por ter acabado mais um Natal!