Singer of songs.

And she sang I mean her whole body sang.

My heart keeps singing Keeps singing

The 10 Tapping Troubadours?

Natalie Merchant sings old poems to life

The Taliban now run their own schools.

How beautiful to hear it sung with such sadness!

Singer of songs? But what work did you do?

They are the same sad songs heard from ancient times by emperor, vassals and clown and in modern times, increasingly by the rich and the poor.

Let's get rid of this sentimental hymn tune... and take a foursquare chorale.

There we were, the whole act, the 10 Tapping Troubadours.

But to sing beautiful things... and make people believe them

Of whatever flies, or sighs, or rocks, or sings, or speaks ...

Now, we're going to do other poems for you, and here's a preview of some of the poets.

Groans

(GROANS) Please!

(groaning)

Grunting, Groaning

I'd like to sing in Basque, which is the language spoken in the Basque Country where I live, in the region in France and Spain.

You don't chant an om.

Lot of fuss about nothing.

The minstrels sing a new song of the love between your brother Giselher and Rüdiger's only child, the beautiful Dietlind!

They aren't minstrels.

Subdued moaning in the passages.

Let me croon it for you.

Do you hear me whimpering?

Repent! And I got to moaning' Save me.

Don't worry. He's still groaning.

Osama bin Laden, Bard of Terror

The soldier groaned with pain.

Do you have to whimper about it?

He's thinking of course it's all a concept of injecting typefaces into spermatozoa, I don't know how to say it in English spermatazoi in order to make them become to almost have a song or a whole poem written with every ejaculation.

When I wiggle my hips

In the Middle Ages, troubadours would travel across the land singing their tales and sharing their verses Lesbor travels through the Balkans like this, singing, connecting people divided by religion, nationality and language.

In the words of that immortal bard, Samuel J. Snodgrass

You mourn over a pair of old shoes.

To Scott.

Let her promise to atone Let her shiver, let her moan

No, thank you. I'm very familiar with Il trovatore.

You oughta be singing something, something jazzy.

We sat there all day picking cotton, without complaining, without crying, while they sang things like Oh, Mary, don't you weep, don't you moan and Wade in the water, and I done done, This little light of mine.

Gather my beloved near, and our chanting will be dancing.

Because I've heard a fly in pain.

Singing together

Rap, of course, rap free style.