Carla Bruni
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Come, let me sing into your ear;
Those dancing days are gone,
All that silk and satin gear;
Crouch upon a stone,
Wrapping that foul body up
In as foul a rag:
I carry the sun in a golden cup.
The moon in a silver bag.
I carry the sun in a golden cup.
The moon in a silver bag.

Curse as you may I sing it through;
What matter if the knave
That the most could pleasure you,
The children that he gave,
Are somewhere sleeping like a top
Under a marble flag?
I carry the sun in a golden cup.
The moon in a silver bag.
I carry the sun in a golden cup.
The moon in a silver bag.

Come, let me sing into your ear;
I thought it out this very day.
Noon upon the clock,
All that silk and satin gear;
A man may put pretence away
Who leans upon a stick,
May sing, and sing until he drop,
Whether to maid or hag:
I carry the sun in a golden cup,
The moon in a silver bag.
I carry the sun in a golden cup.
The moon in a silver bag.

Spoken:
Come, let me sing into your ear;
Those dancing days are gone,
All that silk and satin gear;
Crouch upon a stone,
Wrapping that foul body up
In as foul a rag:
I carry the sun in a golden cup.
The moon in a silver bag.
I carry the sun in a golden cup.
The moon in a silver bag.


Mirror lyrics:

The moon in a silver bag.
I carry the sun in a golden cup.
The moon in a silver bag.
I carry the sun in a golden cup.
In as foul a rag:
Wrapping that foul body up
Crouch upon a stone,
All that silk and satin gear;
Those dancing days are gone,
Come, let me sing into your ear;
Spoken:

The moon in a silver bag.
I carry the sun in a golden cup.
The moon in a silver bag.
I carry the sun in a golden cup,
Whether to maid or hag:
May sing, and sing until he drop,
Who leans upon a stick,
A man may put pretence away
All that silk and satin gear;
Noon upon the clock,
I thought it out this very day.
Come, let me sing into your ear;

The moon in a silver bag.
I carry the sun in a golden cup.
The moon in a silver bag.
I carry the sun in a golden cup.
Under a marble flag?
Are somewhere sleeping like a top
The children that he gave,
That the most could pleasure you,
What matter if the knave
Curse as you may I sing it through;

The moon in a silver bag.
I carry the sun in a golden cup.
The moon in a silver bag.
I carry the sun in a golden cup.
In as foul a rag:
Wrapping that foul body up
Crouch upon a stone,
All that silk and satin gear;
Those dancing days are gone,
Come, let me sing into your ear;


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