Your native language

عربي

Arabic

عربي

简体中文

Chinese

简体中文

Nederlands

Dutch

Nederlands

Français

French

Français

Deutsch

German

Deutsch

Italiano

Italian

Italiano

日本語

Japanese

日本語

한국인

Korean

한국인

Polski

Polish

Polski

Português

Portuguese

Português

Română

Romanian

Română

Русский

Russian

Русский

Español

Spanish

Español

Türk

Turkish

Türk

Українська

Ukrainian

Українська
User Avatar

Son


Interface


Niveau de difficulté


Accent



langue de l'interface

fr

Lyrkit YouTube Lyrkit Instagram Lyrkit Facebook
Politique de cookies   |   Soutien   |   FAQ
1
s'inscrire / se connecter
Lyrkit

faire un don

5$

Lyrkit

faire un don

10$

Lyrkit

faire un don

20$

Lyrkit

Et/Ou soutenez-moi sur les réseaux sociaux. réseaux:


Lyrkit YouTube Lyrkit Instagram Lyrkit Facebook
The Killers

The Cowboys' Christmas Ball

 

The Cowboys' Christmas Ball

(album: (RED) Christmas EP - 2011)


Way out in Old Nevada, where the Truckee's waters flow
Where the cattle are "a-browsing" and the Spanish ponies grow
Where the Northers "come a-whistling" from beyond the Neutral Strip
And the prairie dogs are sneezing, as if they had "The Grip"
Where the coyotes come a-howling around the ranches after dark
And the bluebirds are a-singing to the lovely "meadow lark"
Where the bighorns are a-grazing and the lonely plovers call
It was there that I attended "The Cowboys' Christmas Ball"
(Whoo!)

The boys had left the ranches and come to town in piles
The ladies "kind of scattering" had gathered in for miles
The room was togged out gorgeous with mistletoe and shawls
And candles flickered frescoes, around the airy walls
The women folk looked lovely the boys looked kinda treed
Till the leader got to yelling: "Hey, fellers, let's stampede!"
And the music started sighing, and availing through the hall
As a kind of introduction to "The Cowboys Christmas Ball"

Their leader was a feller that came from Swenson's ranch
They called him "Windy Billy," from "little Dead man's Branch"
His rig was "kinda careless," big spurs and high-heeled boots
He had the reputation that come when "a fellers shoots"
His voice was like a bugle upon a mountainous height
His feet were animated an' a mighty, moving sight
When he commenced to hollering, "Now, fellers stake your pen!"
"Lock horns with all them heifers, and Russel them like men
"Salute yer lovely critters; now swing and let them go
"Climb the grape vine around them all hands do-ce-do!
"You Mavericks, join the round-up Just skip her waterfall"
Huh! It was getting happy, The Cowboys Christmas Ball

Don't tell me about cotillions, or Germans, no sirree!
That whirl at Carson City just takes the cake with me
I'm sick of lazy shuffling's, of them I've had my fill
Just Give me a frontier break-down, backed up by Wild Old Bill

Mc Allister isn't nowhere, when Windy leads the show
I've seen them both in harness, and so I sorta know
Oh, Bill, I shall not forget you, and I'll oftentimes recall
That lively gaited soiree "The Cowboys Christmas Ball"

Oh, Bill, I shall not forget you, and I'll oftentimes recall
That lively gaited soiree "The Cowboys Christmas Ball"

fait

Avez-vous ajouté tous les mots inconnus de cette chanson ?