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

Ses


Arayüz


Zorluk seviyesi


Aksan



arayüz dili

tr

Lyrkit YouTube Lyrkit Instagram Lyrkit Facebook
Çerez politikası   |   Destek   |   FAQ
1
Kayıt Giriş
Lyrkit

bağış yapmak

5$

Lyrkit

bağış yapmak

10$

Lyrkit

bağış yapmak

20$

Lyrkit

Ve/veya beni sosyal medyada destekleyin. ağlar:


Lyrkit YouTube Lyrkit Instagram Lyrkit Facebook
Christy Moore

Beeswing

 

Beeswing

(albüm: Burning Times - 2005)


I was 18 when I came to town they called it the summer of love
Burning babies burning flags the hawks against the doves
I took a job at the steaming way down on Caltrim St.
Fell in love with a laundry girl that was working next to me

Brown hair zig zagged around her face and a look of half surprise
Like a fox caught in the headlights there was animal in her eyes
She said to me, can't you see, I'm not the factory kind
If you don't take me out of here, I'll lose my mind

She was a rare thing, fine as a bee's wing
So fine a breath of wind might blow her away
She was a lost child, she was running wild (she said)
So long as there's no price on love I'll stay
You wouldn't want me any other way

We busked around the market towns fruit picking, down in Kent
We could tinker pots and pans or knives wherever we went
We were camping down the Gower and the work was mighty good
She wouldn't wait for the harvest, I thought we should

I said to her, we'll settle down, get a few acres dug
A fire burning in the hearth and babies on the rug
She said, oh man you foolish man that surely sounds like hell
You might be lord of half the world, you'll not own me as well

She was a rare thing, fine as a bee's wing
So fine a breath of wind might blow her away
She was a lost child, she was running wild (she said)
So long as there's no price on love I'll stay
You wouldn't want me any other way

We were drinking more in those days, our tempers reached a pitch
Like a fool I let her run away when she took the rambling itch
And the last I heard she was living rough back on the Derby beat
A bottle of White Horse in her pocket, a Wolfhound at her feet

They say that she got married once to a man called Romany Brown
Even a gypsy caravan was too much like settling down
They say her rose has faded, rough weather and hard booze
Maybe that's the price you pay for the chains that you refuse

She was a rare thing, fine as a bee's wing
I miss her more than ever words can say
If I could just taste all of her wildness now
If I could hold her in my arms today
I wouldn't want her any other way

If I could hold her in my arms today
I wouldn't want her any other way

Tamamlandı

Bu şarkıdaki tüm yabancı kelimeleri eklediniz mi?