Out Of The Shadows Of Night The

There Is A Reaper, Whose Name Is Death, And, With His Sickle Keen, He Reaps The Bearded Grain At A Breath, And The Flowers That Grow Between.

Tis Always Morning Somewhere.

Welcome, My Old Friend, Welcome To A Foreign Fireside.

Music Is The Universal Language Of Mankind.

Dost Thou Know What A Hero Is? Why, A Hero Is As Much As One Should Say, A Hero.