GO and catch a falling star,�Get with child a mandrake root,�Tell me where all past years are,�Or who cleft the devil's foot,�Teach me to hear mermaids singing,�Or to keep off envy's stinging,�And find�What wind�Serves to advance an honest mind. ��If thou be'st born to strange sights,�Things invisible to see,�Ride ten thousand days and nights,�Till age snow white hairs on thee,�Thou, when thou return'st, wilt tell me,�All strange wonders that befell thee,�And swear,�No where�Lives a woman true and fair. ��If thou find'st one, let me know,�Such a pilgrimage were sweet;�Yet do not, I would not go,�Though at next door we might meet,�Though she were true, when you met her,�And last, till you write your letter,�Yet she�Will be�False, ere I come, to two, or three.

Song by John Donne

GO and catch a falling star,��

Song by John Donne

Get with child a mandrake root,

GO and catch a falling star,�Get with child a mandrake root,�Tell me where all past years are,�

Song by John Donne

GO and catch a falling star,�Get with child a mandrake root,�Tell me where all past years are,�Or who cleft the devil's foot,�

Song by John Donne

Teach me to hear mermaids singing,�

GO and catch a falling star,�Get with child a mandrake root,�Tell me where all past years are,�Or who cleft the devil's foot,�Teach me to hear mermaids singing,�

Song by John Donne

Or to keep off envy's stinging,�

GO and catch a falling star,�Get with child a mandrake root,�Tell me where all past years are,�Or who cleft the devil's foot,�Teach me to hear mermaids singing,�Or to keep off envy's stinging,�And find�What wind�Serves to advance an honest mind. ��If thou be'st born to strange sights,�Things invisible to see,���

Song by John Donne

GO and catch a falling star,�Get with child a mandrake root,�Tell me where all past years are,�Or who cleft the devil's foot,�Teach me to hear mermaids singing,�Or to keep off envy's stinging,�And find�What wind�Serves to advance an honest mind. ��If thou be'st born to strange sights,�Things invisible to see,�Ride ten thousand days and nights,�Till age snow white hairs on thee,�

Song by John Donne

GO and catch a falling star,�Get with child a mandrake root,�Tell me where all past years are,�Or who cleft the devil's foot,�Teach me to hear mermaids singing,�Or to keep off envy's stinging,�And find�What wind�Serves to advance an honest mind. ��If thou be'st born to strange sights,�Things invisible to see,�Ride ten thousand days and nights,�Till age snow white hairs on thee,�Thou, when thou return'st, wilt tell me,�All strange wonders that befell thee,�And swear,�No where�Lives a woman true and fair. ��

Song by John Donne

GO and catch a falling star,�Get with child a mandrake root,�Tell me where all past years are,�Or who cleft the devil's foot,�Teach me to hear mermaids singing,�Or to keep off envy's stinging,�And find�What wind�Serves to advance an honest mind. ��If thou be'st born to strange sights,�Things invisible to see,�Ride ten thousand days and nights,�Till age snow white hairs on thee,�Thou, when thou return'st, wilt tell me,�All strange wonders that befell thee,�And swear,�No where�Lives a woman true and fair. ��If thou find'st one, let me know,�Such a pilgrimage were sweet;�

Song by John Donne

GO and catch a falling star,�Get with child a mandrake root,�Tell me where all past years are,�Or who cleft the devil's foot,�Teach me to hear mermaids singing,�Or to keep off envy's stinging,�And find�What wind�Serves to advance an honest mind. ��If thou be'st born to strange sights,�Things invisible to see,�Ride ten thousand days and nights,�Till age snow white hairs on thee,�Thou, when thou return'st, wilt tell me,�All strange wonders that befell thee,�And swear,�No where�Lives a woman true and fair. ��If thou find'st one, let me know,�Such a pilgrimage were sweet;�Yet do not, I would not go,�Though at next door we might meet,�

Song by John Donne

Song by John Donne

GO and catch a falling star,�Get with child a mandrake root,�Tell me where all past years are,�Or who cleft the devil's foot,�Teach me to hear mermaids singing,�Or to keep off envy's stinging,�And find�What wind�Serves to advance an honest mind. ��If thou be'st born to strange sights,�Things invisible to see,�Ride ten thousand days and nights,�Till age snow white hairs on thee,�Thou, when thou return'st, wilt tell me,�All strange wonders that befell thee,�And swear,�No where�Lives a woman true and fair. ��If thou find'st one, let me know,�Such a pilgrimage were sweet;�Yet do not, I would not go,�Though at next door we might meet,�Though she were true, when you met her,�And last, till you write your letter,�

GO and catch a falling star,�Get with child a mandrake root,�Tell me where all past years are,�Or who cleft the devil's foot,�Teach me to hear mermaids singing,�Or to keep off envy's stinging,�And find�What wind�Serves to advance an honest mind. ��If thou be'st born to strange sights,�Things invisible to see,�Ride ten thousand days and nights,�Till age snow white hairs on thee,�Thou, when thou return'st, wilt tell me,�All strange wonders that befell thee,�And swear,�No where�Lives a woman true and fair. ��If thou find'st one, let me know,�Such a pilgrimage were sweet;�Yet do not, I would not go,�Though at next door we might meet,�Though she were true, when you met her,�And last, till you write your letter,�Yet she�Will be�False, ere I come, to two, or three.

Song by John Donne

GO and catch a falling star,�Get with child a mandrake root,�Tell me where all past years are,�Or who cleft the devil's foot,�Teach me to hear mermaids singing,�Or to keep off envy's stinging,�And find�What wind�Serves to advance an honest mind. ��If thou be'st born to strange sights,�Things invisible to see,�Ride ten thousand days and nights,�Till age snow white hairs on thee,�Thou, when thou return'st, wilt tell me,�All strange wonders that befell thee,�And swear,�No where�Lives a woman true and fair. ��If thou find'st one, let me know,�Such a pilgrimage were sweet;�Yet do not, I would not go,�Though at next door we might meet,�Though she were true, when you met her,�And last, till you write your letter,�Yet she�Will be�False, ere I come, to two, or three.

Song by John Donne