Song | Mountain Fern |
Artist | Laura Cantrell |
Album | When The Roses Bloom Again |
Download | Image LRC TXT |
作曲 : Cantrell | |
She left her home on the mountain as a young girl. | |
And she travelled and rambled all through the wide world. | |
And the world was | |
Kentucky, and then | |
Tennessee, | |
West Virginia to | |
Texas, everything in between. | |
And her name would be different from place to place, | |
And her heart might get heavy sometimes. | |
With a worn prayer book in her guitar case, | |
In a boarding house room, her banjo she plays. | |
And the wind blows the mountain fern, | |
She sways and bends in the breeze. | |
And our Dixie | |
Darlin' is callin' him, | |
She's fallin' right down to her knees. | |
Do you know who to please? | |
The road it got dusty, hot, long and hard. | |
Travellin' night noon and mornin' in an old | |
Packard car. | |
An' though she found fame and fortune on the radio waves, | |
Well, it never came easy and she longed to be saved. | |
Those hills in | |
Knoxville with their fine white mist, | |
Settled over everything. | |
Put a chill in her heart like the devil's kiss: | |
In the morning light turns to the | |
King. And the wind blows the mountain fern, | |
She sways and bends in the breeze. | |
And our Dixie | |
Darlin' is callin' him, | |
She's fallin' right down to her knees. | |
She finally knows who to please. | |
And it feels so good to hear your voice, | |
Rising up with mine, | |
Oh, that is a joyous noise. | |
And I hope someday you will understand why my song, | |
Must be sung for | |
Him, played for | |
Him, Written for | |
Him as they're given by him, yes. | |
Ooooooh. |
zuo qu : Cantrell | |
She left her home on the mountain as a young girl. | |
And she travelled and rambled all through the wide world. | |
And the world was | |
Kentucky, and then | |
Tennessee, | |
West Virginia to | |
Texas, everything in between. | |
And her name would be different from place to place, | |
And her heart might get heavy sometimes. | |
With a worn prayer book in her guitar case, | |
In a boarding house room, her banjo she plays. | |
And the wind blows the mountain fern, | |
She sways and bends in the breeze. | |
And our Dixie | |
Darlin' is callin' him, | |
She' s fallin' right down to her knees. | |
Do you know who to please? | |
The road it got dusty, hot, long and hard. | |
Travellin' night noon and mornin' in an old | |
Packard car. | |
An' though she found fame and fortune on the radio waves, | |
Well, it never came easy and she longed to be saved. | |
Those hills in | |
Knoxville with their fine white mist, | |
Settled over everything. | |
Put a chill in her heart like the devil' s kiss: | |
In the morning light turns to the | |
King. And the wind blows the mountain fern, | |
She sways and bends in the breeze. | |
And our Dixie | |
Darlin' is callin' him, | |
She' s fallin' right down to her knees. | |
She finally knows who to please. | |
And it feels so good to hear your voice, | |
Rising up with mine, | |
Oh, that is a joyous noise. | |
And I hope someday you will understand why my song, | |
Must be sung for | |
Him, played for | |
Him, Written for | |
Him as they' re given by him, yes. | |
Ooooooh. |
zuò qǔ : Cantrell | |
She left her home on the mountain as a young girl. | |
And she travelled and rambled all through the wide world. | |
And the world was | |
Kentucky, and then | |
Tennessee, | |
West Virginia to | |
Texas, everything in between. | |
And her name would be different from place to place, | |
And her heart might get heavy sometimes. | |
With a worn prayer book in her guitar case, | |
In a boarding house room, her banjo she plays. | |
And the wind blows the mountain fern, | |
She sways and bends in the breeze. | |
And our Dixie | |
Darlin' is callin' him, | |
She' s fallin' right down to her knees. | |
Do you know who to please? | |
The road it got dusty, hot, long and hard. | |
Travellin' night noon and mornin' in an old | |
Packard car. | |
An' though she found fame and fortune on the radio waves, | |
Well, it never came easy and she longed to be saved. | |
Those hills in | |
Knoxville with their fine white mist, | |
Settled over everything. | |
Put a chill in her heart like the devil' s kiss: | |
In the morning light turns to the | |
King. And the wind blows the mountain fern, | |
She sways and bends in the breeze. | |
And our Dixie | |
Darlin' is callin' him, | |
She' s fallin' right down to her knees. | |
She finally knows who to please. | |
And it feels so good to hear your voice, | |
Rising up with mine, | |
Oh, that is a joyous noise. | |
And I hope someday you will understand why my song, | |
Must be sung for | |
Him, played for | |
Him, Written for | |
Him as they' re given by him, yes. | |
Ooooooh. |