Tiger...Tiger burning oh so bright...
Tiger...Tiger lying lying thru the night...
What immoral hands & thighs
Could frame thy fearful symmetry?
In what distant deeps or skies
Burnt the fire of thine eyes
On who do you oh so perspire?
Whose hands grasp you while on fire?
And what shoulder & what art
could twist oh poor Erin's heart?
And when her heart began to beat
Oh how she beat you with hands & feet!
What the hammer? what the chain?
Where exactly was your brain?
What the anvil, what dread golf club in her grasp
Dare her deadly terrors clasp
When the stars get thrown down by their peers
and water the newspapers with their tears
Did He smile over His works to see?
Did He who made the babes make thee?
Tiger...Tiger burning oh so bright...
Tiger...Tiger lying lying thru the night...
What immoral hands & thighs
Could frame thy fearful symmetry?
Please find my inspiration from the orginal by William Blake http://www.bartleby.com/101/489.html
