Волынки и Web.
Ничего общего! Почти...

Green, Green Grass of Home

В рубрике: Тексты песен — 07.08.2012

The old hometown looks the same as I step down from the train
And there to meet me is my mama and papa
Down the lane I look and there runs Mary hair of gold and lips like cherries
It's good to touch the green green grass of home
The old house is still standing though the paint is cracked and dry
There's the old oak tree that I used to play on
Down the lane I walk with my sweet Mary hair of gold and lips like cherries
It's so good to touch the green green grass of home
Yes they'll all come to meet me arms areached smiling sweetly
It's so good to touch the green green grass of home
[ guitar ]
Then I awake and look around me at the four grey walls that surround me
And I realized that I was only dreaming
For there's a guard and there's that sad old padre arm in arm we'll walk at daybreak
And again I'll touch the green green grass of home
Yes they'll all come to see me in the shade of that old oak tree
As they lay me neath the green green grass of home


Похожие новости.


Driftin’

Driftin’

I'm drifting and drifting, just like a ship out on the sea. I'm drifting and drifting, just like a ship out on the sea. Well I ain't got nobody in this world



To A Little Radio Right Around The World

To A Little Radio Right Around The World

Bert told Brecht Brecht told Bert Words like birds flew right around the world Right around the world Right around the world Words flew right around the world Beware! Don't look away! Hear what the poet has



Украінські Дівчата

Украінські Дівчата

Немов з картини давньої обличчя, Як темна ніч заплетена коса, На подіум, напевне, не покличуть, Бо інша там цінується краса. Зате вона все може, все уміє, Мов сонце і зігріє і зростить, І я не знаю,



Свечи

Свечи

Осенней ночью за окном Туман поссорился с дождем, И беспробудный вечер, И беспробудный вечер. О чем-то дальнем, неземном, О чем-то близком и родном, Сгорая, плачут свечи, Сгорая, плачут свечи. О чем-то дальнем, неземном, О чем-то близком и родном, Сгорая, плачут



I’m Going Home

I’m Going Home

I left my home by the ocean, I left my love by the sea, Dreaming I could sing my songs in the city... I thought the streets of London Would be paved with gold, But




Нет комментариев

Комментариев нет.

Извините, обсуждение на данный момент закрыто.