Get out, get in, get up, get round -

All the world's a stage!

He said it then, and he was right,

Writ large on every page.

All the world's a stage, my friends, you

Know this over all, so

Get out, get in, get up, get round -

It's time for curtain call!

The curtain is up, we're rarin' to go,

They're standing in the aisles.

What can we say at the start of the show

Up here's a land of smiles!

Life is such a marvellous thing-

We never know what tomorrow might bring,

So whether you're pauper, a poet or a king

Come, join us as we sing:

Come out, come in, come up, come round -

Come to Scouting's fair!

For ninety years we've trod the boards

And acted everywhere.

All the world's a stage, we know, where

You can have a ball, so

Come out, come in, come up, come round -

It's time for curtain call!

The day fades to the West, 

Birds wing to their rest.  

Sleep creeps up from the East, bringing shadows 

Pointing to the new tomorrow

Goodbye, today’s sorrow, 

Goodnight, tomorrow.

Rainbows bend above all, 

Love hears the call to joy.  

Seas crash and break on rocky sandy shores, 

Opening doors for life to borrow.

Goodbye, today’s sorrow, 

Goodnight, tomorrow.

Is there a king who’s

Missing a queen? whose 

Elegant shoes, size

Ten to fifteen, are 

Enough to make you

Choose him to be yours, to

Win the baby boy after boy 

After boy succession

Prize.

Is there a man who’s

Yearning for fame? a

Warrior of note;

One to float my boat

Enough to make me

Choose him to be mine, who

Needs someone like me to

Guide him to play the great

Game.

You’ve got me on board,

We just need a good lord;

With his shield and sword

Near here, not too far abroad;

Who’s his own reward

Doesn’t mind being ignored;

And finally and absolutely

Doesn’t need to be adored!

Music lifts up my heart so 

Far beyond desert Mars. 

Music gifts from the start, so 

Far beyond the stars. 

Music plays on my heart strings, 

Highs and lows, ups and downs. 

Music sprays from my Art’s wings: 

Nature’s gorgeous gowns, 

Nature’s gorgeous gowns.  

Yesterday, when I was young,

Only just begun.

When your life had just begun –

A rising sun, hardly ablaze.

Who could have guessed where it would lead?

Soon to amaze,

Both in word and deed.

Nature’s rainbow gowns,

Nature’s rainbow gowns.

To Vienna,

In Vienna,

Music everywhere you go to play,

Breaking, away.

Nature’s living gowns,

Nature’s living gowns.

Inspiration from – where? – above,

And love, and love, and love, fickle love.

Music lifts up our hearts, so  

Far beyond desert Mars. 

Music gifts from the start, so 

Far beyond the stars. 

Music plays on our heart strings, 

Highs and lows, ups and downs, 

Music sprays from our arts’ wings: 

Nature’s gorgeous gowns, 

Nature’s gorgeous gowns.

Not a sound can I hear,

Unless you’re quite near –

And everyone speaks so softly.

Every sound is not clear.

For me, I’m all fear,

As everyone speaks so softly.

I ache and I bend,

I turn from a friend

He doesn’t know he speaks so softly.

He tries to extend

He tries not to offend

But still doesn’t know he speaks softly.

Not a sound can I hear,

Although you’re quite near –

As everyone speaks so softly.

Not a sound can I (you) hear,

Unless you’re (we’re) quite near – 

And everyone speaks so softly. 

Every sound is not clear.

For me, I’m (you’re) all fear,

As everyone speaks so softly.

I (you) ache and I (you) bend,

I (you) turn from a friend

He doesn’t know he speaks so softly.

He tries to extend

He tries not to offend

But still doesn’t know he speaks softly.

Not a sound can I (you) hear,

Although you’re (we’re) quite near –

As everyone speaks so softly.

So softly. So softly. So soft.

Softly, softly goes the sound.

The world spins through space,

And time moves at its will. 

Down here’s our human race, 

Together, for good or ill, for 

Softly, softly goes the sound.

Softly, softly goes the sound. 

The world turns through space, 

For us there’s much to do,  

And time moves at its pace. 

Together, friends, true for you. 

Softly, softly goes the sound. 

Softly, softly goes the sound.

The world falls through space,

Its own journey through stars.

And time, sometimes, shows no grace,

Together, we break iron bars, as

Softly, softly goes the sound.

Softly, softly goes the sound.

Softly,

Softly

Goes the sound.

AH, YON BIRD -

YOU ARE THERE…TO BE HEARD?

IS THE NIGHT YOUR OWN

SAFE WORLD?

WHILE I LIE HERE BENT, UNCURLED, 

UNSLEEPING, KNOWING THAT

TOMORROW WILL BE WEEPING…

SO THAT I CAN BE A KING.

A KING, A KING -

HE WANTS TO BE.

AH, YON MOON -

WILL YOUR LIGHT…END SO SOON?

CAN YOU STAY YOUR HAND

A WHILE?

AS YOU FALL BENEATH THE TREES,

SILENTLY BLACKING OUT.

COME THE SUN, PLEASE COME THE BEES…

SO THAT I CAN BE A KING.

A KING, A KING -

HE WANTS TO BE.

AH, YON STARS - 

ARE YOU THERE, ODIN, THOR?

LOKI, FREYA, MARS?

MY LORD?

ARE YOU ALL OR ARE YOU NONE?

ON WHOSE SIDE: HIS OR MINE?

COME THE SON: PLEASE, COME THE SUN…

SO THAT I CAN BE A KING.

A KING, A KING -

HE WANTS TO BE.

HE WANTS TO BE 

A KING.

Ever since we've been on Earth,

Spreading across the seas,

We've all wondered about our worth,

Always trying to please.

So often we're filled with unreasonable doubt -

Maybe it's in-bred!

When all that we really have to do is

Listen to what the bard said….

'All the world's a stage' and

It doesn't matter what your age is.

Your life's a waiting book

So fill up all the pages!

Take one day at a time,

But don't forget tomorrow,

There's always a mountain to climb

And sometimes a little bit of sorrow.

If you want to get on

But don't quite know how,

There's always a way to get on your way -

You just have to begin it now!

All the world is waiting -

It doesn't matter who you are,

So get on with your book

And become a star!

We’re waiting for a baby,

We wish the stork would come.

Dad’s getting very nervy

When we mention our dear Mum.

We’re waiting for a baby,

A girl or maybe a boy.

Whatever arrives you can bet our lives

Will be changed by the bundleful of joy.

Now all of us are experienced men

In this baby game.

We know the look shining in their eyes –

Every spring it is the same.

They look at us, giggle, wriggle and fuss

Our hair, making a lot of noise.

‘Oh, Johnny dear, lovely news we have for you –

‘Your room will soon have two!’

My dear old Dad was thirty-three

Just the other day.

And I heard him talking to my Mum

In a most peculiar way.

‘Oh woe is me!’ said my father of three

Girls and nine of us little boys.

‘Oh glory be!’ with his head in the oven

‘I only want a dozen!’

In our small house are many kids,

All of whom are boys.

There’s John and Keith, David, Ken and Paul,

Michael, Douglas, Ian, Roy.

And Bruce and Greg, Darryl, Trevor and me,

Then there’s Len to make the lot.

A sister, please, if we have another,

But a boy!  Not a boy!  Oh, brother!

Each time a new arrival nears

Dad begins to smoke.

He puffs away, ninety to a day,

Blimey, he looks a joke.

When Mum gives astart he’s off like a gun,

Exploding to the car.

He cracks his shin, slips and bangs his head,

While Mum goes back to bed!

Oh, very soon will come the hour

W’ve been waiting for.

In the hospital, with its rotten smell,

Our dads will pace the floor.

A sweet young nurse, smiling like a clown,

To our father happily walks.

‘Oh, Mr Jones, gladsome news I bear –

‘You have another pair!’

What is a king,

Without a son?

A glorious lineage

Not even begun!

What is a king,

Without a son?

A tired old man, all alone:

A sum of just one.

What is a king,

Without a son?

A sad old man; on a chair:

A dynasty of one.

What is a king,

Without a son? BUT a

Smart old man, awake and fair?

Perhaps with an...heir?

Mmmm

Leaves of autumn fall 

As winter calls.

My hope goes, like a failing tree.

Will I hear the call again, 

Calling summer's song down through its leaves to me?

Winds of winter storms, 

As cold winter forms.

So hope goes, like an ebbing sea.

Will I feel the flow again,

Flowing music’s soul down through the waves to me? 

Tears of sorrow spring,  

Salt streams, sad streams, lost streams,

And hope flees like a dying plea.

Will I ever dream again,

Warming sunshine’s rays down through the skies to me?

Leaves begin to fall,  

As winter calls.

My hope fades, a lost melody.

Will I never hear again

Calling summer’s song down through the leaves to me?

Will I never hear again,

Calling summer’s song down through the leaves to me?

I will never hear a call again.

I will never hear a call again.

I will never hear a call again.

I will never hear a call again.

Will she wait for me

At the gate?

Will she know that I 

Sigh for her?

Will we ever be?

A soldier I -

Paid to do or die,

A man who must plan only for 

Tomorrow. 

Will she be brave for me,

And save for me?

Will she pray for me or

Stray from me?

Will we never be?

A soldier I -

Paid to do or die,

A man who must plan only for 

Tomorrow. 

Will she wait for me?

Will she be brave for me?

Will she pray for me?

Or will she stray from me?

A soldier I -

Paid to do or die,

A man who must plan only for 

Tomorrow.

Will she know that I

Died for her? 

Tomorrow.

That I

Died for her 

Tomorrow?

I died for her 

Tomorrow.

We’re waiting for a baby,

We wish the stork would come.

Dad’s getting very nervy

When we mention our dear Mum.

We’re waiting for a baby,

A girl or maybe a boy.

Whatever arrives you can bet our lives

Will be changed by the bundleful of joy.

Now all of us are experienced men

In this baby game.

We know the look shining in their eyes –

Every spring it is the same.

They look at us, giggle, wriggle and fuss

Our hair, making a lot of noise.

‘Oh, Johnny dear, lovely news we have for you –

‘Your room will soon have two!’

My dear old Dad was thirty-three

Just the other day.

And I heard him talking to my Mum

In a most peculiar way.

‘Oh woe is me!’ said my father of three

Girls and nine of us little boys.

‘Oh glory be!’ with his head in the oven

‘I only want a dozen!’

In our small house are many kids,

All of whom are boys.

There’s John and Keith, David, Ken and Paul,

Michael, Douglas, Ian, Roy.

And Bruce and Greg, Darryl, Trevor and me,

Then there’s Len to make the lot.

A sister, please, if we have another,

But a boy!  Not a boy!  Oh, brother!

Each time a new arrival nears

Dad begins to smoke.

He puffs away, ninety to a day,

Blimey, he looks a joke.

When Mum gives astart he’s off like a gun,

Exploding to the car.

He cracks his shin, slips and bangs his head,

While Mum goes back to bed!

Oh, very soon will come the hour

W’ve been waiting for.

In the hospital, with its rotten smell,

Our dads will pace the floor.

A sweet young nurse, smiling like a clown,

To our father happily walks.

‘Oh, Mr Jones, gladsome news I bear –

‘You have another pair!’