Last night,i had the strangest dream.It was in color,very vivid and very frightening.I dreamt i was lying in bad asleep,when suddenly i started to feel very hot.I woke up and found the house was on fire.I ran upstairs to the top floor to avoid the flames,but the fire got bigger and bigger.It seemed to be chasing me.In the end,i had nowhere else to run to.I tried to reach the window but i couldn't because my feet were struck firmly to the ground.
Then,just as the flames were about to reach me,i flew out of the window,leaving the flames behind.I flew higher and higher.I could see the whole town spread out beneath me.Then i started to fall,faster and faster.I tried to scream but i couldn't .Just before i hit the ground,i woke up.The first thing i did was to turn down the central heating!
<span>Can the doll cry. -Yes it CAN
Can my mom cook - Yes she. CAN
Can the snake talt No it CAN'T
Can my Dad drive Yes he CAN
Can the boy ride a bike No he CAN'T
</span>
<span>1. She usually LISTENS to music in the evening.
2. DOES he always HELP sick animals?</span>
Don't talk as if you were a <span>foreigner
</span>he was disinterested in <span>horse racing
</span>our territory is occupied
we decided to put off<span> buying the house
</span>the killer left a lot of hostile<span> clues
</span><span>they are </span>wading<span> across the river</span>
WHAT have I done for you,
England, my England?
What is there I would not do,
England, my own?
With your glorious eyes austere,
As the Lord were walking near,
Whispering terrible things and dear
As the song on your bugles blown,
England -
Round the world on your bugles blown.
Where shall the watchful sun,
England, my England,
Match the master-work you've done,
England, my own?
When shall he rejoice agen
Such a breed of mighty men
As come forward, one to ten,
To the Song on your bugles blown,
England -
Down the years on your bugles blown?
Ever the faith endures,
England, my England:-
'Take and break us: we are yours,
England, my own!
Life is good, and joy runs high
Between English earth and sky:
Death is death; but we shall die
To the song on your bugles blown,
England -
To the stars on your bugles blown!'
They shall call you proud and hard,
England, my England:
You with worlds to watch and ward,
England, my own!
You whose mail'd hand keeps the keys
Of such teeming destinies,
You could not know nor dread nor ease
Were the song on your bugles blown,
England,
Round the Pit on your bugles blown!
Mother of ships whose might,
England, my England,
Is the fierce old Sea's delight,
England, my own,
Chose daughter of the Lord,
Spouse-in-chief of the ancient Sword,
There's the menace of the Word
In the Song on your bugles blown,
England -
Out of heaven on your bugles blown!