Song | Northern Cowboy |
Artist | Dougie MacLean |
Album | The Plant Life Years |
Download | Image LRC TXT |
作曲 : Dougie MacLean | |
作词 : Dougie MacLean | |
Look here comes a northern cowboy | |
He just rode in from Aberdeen | |
He's got money in his pockets | |
And blisters like you've never ever seen | |
Don't let him fool you with the stories | |
Of all the money he has made | |
I've been looking along the north-east coastline | |
And those cowboys have already dug its grave | |
There was a time when we were happy | |
With the simple pleasures that we knew | |
And then one day it started raining | |
And a very ugly storm began to brew | |
It wasn't long before we noticed | |
That the people had a fever in their eyes | |
They were taking all the things they'd been preserving | |
And going out and throwing them up into the skies | |
Once the money started moving | |
The fever spread from door to door | |
And all the young girls started selling | |
Something they had never sold before | |
The people spun around in circles | |
Confusion cluttering their minds | |
Their lives were being drawn from them | |
By bastards of a hundred different kinds | |
So come all ye northern cowboys | |
Get back down here upon the farm | |
Leave the salt wind to the sailors | |
Leave the North Sea to the storm | |
And one day when it's all over | |
And you're hanging up your saddles and your guns | |
You'll look around this oil-stained country | |
And you'll wish to Christ it never had begun |
zuo qu : Dougie MacLean | |
zuo ci : Dougie MacLean | |
Look here comes a northern cowboy | |
He just rode in from Aberdeen | |
He' s got money in his pockets | |
And blisters like you' ve never ever seen | |
Don' t let him fool you with the stories | |
Of all the money he has made | |
I' ve been looking along the northeast coastline | |
And those cowboys have already dug its grave | |
There was a time when we were happy | |
With the simple pleasures that we knew | |
And then one day it started raining | |
And a very ugly storm began to brew | |
It wasn' t long before we noticed | |
That the people had a fever in their eyes | |
They were taking all the things they' d been preserving | |
And going out and throwing them up into the skies | |
Once the money started moving | |
The fever spread from door to door | |
And all the young girls started selling | |
Something they had never sold before | |
The people spun around in circles | |
Confusion cluttering their minds | |
Their lives were being drawn from them | |
By bastards of a hundred different kinds | |
So come all ye northern cowboys | |
Get back down here upon the farm | |
Leave the salt wind to the sailors | |
Leave the North Sea to the storm | |
And one day when it' s all over | |
And you' re hanging up your saddles and your guns | |
You' ll look around this oilstained country | |
And you' ll wish to Christ it never had begun |
zuò qǔ : Dougie MacLean | |
zuò cí : Dougie MacLean | |
Look here comes a northern cowboy | |
He just rode in from Aberdeen | |
He' s got money in his pockets | |
And blisters like you' ve never ever seen | |
Don' t let him fool you with the stories | |
Of all the money he has made | |
I' ve been looking along the northeast coastline | |
And those cowboys have already dug its grave | |
There was a time when we were happy | |
With the simple pleasures that we knew | |
And then one day it started raining | |
And a very ugly storm began to brew | |
It wasn' t long before we noticed | |
That the people had a fever in their eyes | |
They were taking all the things they' d been preserving | |
And going out and throwing them up into the skies | |
Once the money started moving | |
The fever spread from door to door | |
And all the young girls started selling | |
Something they had never sold before | |
The people spun around in circles | |
Confusion cluttering their minds | |
Their lives were being drawn from them | |
By bastards of a hundred different kinds | |
So come all ye northern cowboys | |
Get back down here upon the farm | |
Leave the salt wind to the sailors | |
Leave the North Sea to the storm | |
And one day when it' s all over | |
And you' re hanging up your saddles and your guns | |
You' ll look around this oilstained country | |
And you' ll wish to Christ it never had begun |