The world is lyrical, because a miracle
Has brought my lover to me;
Though she's some other place, her face I see.
At night I creep in bed, and never sleep in bed,
But look above in the air,
And to my greatest joy, my love is there.
(Melody:)
She dan - ces o - ver - head on the ceiling near my bed,
In my sight, all through the night;
I try to hide in vain underneath my counterpane,
But there's my love up there above.
I whisper, "Go away, my lover, it's not fair,"
But I'm so grateful to discover, that she's still there.
I love my ceil -ing more, since it is a dancing floor,
Just for my love.