My dear sister! I'm amazed to discover that you can compose so delightfully. In a word$$$ your Lied is beautiful. You must compose more often.

Don Giovanni$$$ you invited me to sup with you: I have come.

Whoever says The Smiths have split shall be severely spanked by me with a wet plimsoll.

I'd rather be remembered as a big-mouthed failure than an effete little wimp.

The more you ignore me$$$ the closer I get; you're wasting your time.

She was a tall woman with unfashionable hips and a long chestnut braid singing down her back.

She stopped then and turned her face toward him and the hateful wind.

How loose the silk. How jailed down the juice.

Lay my head on the railroad line$$$ Train come along$$$ pacify my mind.

And wouldn't you know he'd be a singing man.