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

Geluid


Koppel


Moeilijkheidsgraad


Accent



interfacetaal

nl

Lyrkit YouTube Lyrkit Instagram Lyrkit Facebook
Cookie beleid   |   Steun   |   FAQ
1
registreren / inloggen
Lyrkit

doneren

5$

Lyrkit

doneren

10$

Lyrkit

doneren

20$

Lyrkit

En/of steun mij op sociaal gebied. netwerken:


Lyrkit YouTube Lyrkit Instagram Lyrkit Facebook
Bobby Goldsboro

Southern Fried Singin' Sunday Mornin'

 

Southern Fried Singin' Sunday Mornin'

(album: California Wine - 1972)


There's a little country church down a little country road
Near a little country town where I was born
In this little country church there's some good old country people
And you can hear them singing every Sunday morn
And a feeling starts to swell when I hear that Sunday bell
'Cause it takes me back to times when things were slow
And a man can't help but pray when that organ starts to play
And it takes me back to days of long ago

To a southern fried singing Sunday morning
When a man would smile and shake his neighbour's hand
On a southern fried singing Sunday morning
How I wish that I could be back home again

People used to gather round for a picnic on the ground
And the Reverend he would preach the Holy Word
And we'd all look to the sky
And we'd lift our voices high
And it seemed that we got closer to the Lord

On a southern fried singing Sunday morning
When a man would smile and shake his neighbour's hand
On a southern fried singing Sunday morning
How I wish that I could be back home again

Every Sunday we would practice golden ruling
And we'd all chip in to lend a helping hand
And children always got their Sunday schooling
And they taught us how to love our fellow man
Now the days go much too fast
And you can't live in the past
And it seems that home's a million miles away
But when things are getting rough
And the going gets too tough
I just drift away to dreams of yesterday

To a southern fried singing Sunday morning
When a man would smile and shake his neighbour's hand
On a southern fried singing Sunday morning
How I wish that I could be back home again

On a southern fried singing Sunday morning
When a man would smile and shake his neighbour's hand
On a southern fried singing Sunday morning
How I wish that I could be back home again

klaar

Heb je alle onbekende woorden uit dit nummer toegevoegd?