Song | England 1914 |
Artist | Ralph McTell |
Album | Streets Of London - Best Of |
Download | Image LRC TXT |
作词 : McTell | |
Night stirs her inky finger | |
In the water of the day, | |
The tired sun drops slowly in the sky. | |
And everywhere the gentle air | |
Hangs heavy with the day song | |
Evening calls the lamplight out to come. | |
Children's wooden hoops | |
Go clattering down the street | |
Soon they're called inside, it's getting late. | |
The grand canal | |
Now splashed with red | |
Reflects on swallows wings. | |
The lamplighter knows the song | |
The evening sings. | |
But the gas-lamps stand like soldiers | |
Hiss warnings to the wind | |
Their evening vespers prophicy a war. | |
The world divides | |
And men take sides | |
The spark bursts into flame | |
Nothing can be quite the same again. | |
Dog barks in the distance | |
Child cries in her sleep | |
Night waits for the dawn with baited breath. | |
The old school, the old rule | |
Rung out on a muffinman's bell | |
The lamplighter has made his nightly call. | |
Dreams of hope and peace | |
Sent clattering down the streets | |
Empty like the promises they made. | |
The wars rage on, and different wrongs | |
Will someone please explain | |
That peace is not the lamplighter | |
'Cos he's not coming back again. |
zuo ci : McTell | |
Night stirs her inky finger | |
In the water of the day, | |
The tired sun drops slowly in the sky. | |
And everywhere the gentle air | |
Hangs heavy with the day song | |
Evening calls the lamplight out to come. | |
Children' s wooden hoops | |
Go clattering down the street | |
Soon they' re called inside, it' s getting late. | |
The grand canal | |
Now splashed with red | |
Reflects on swallows wings. | |
The lamplighter knows the song | |
The evening sings. | |
But the gaslamps stand like soldiers | |
Hiss warnings to the wind | |
Their evening vespers prophicy a war. | |
The world divides | |
And men take sides | |
The spark bursts into flame | |
Nothing can be quite the same again. | |
Dog barks in the distance | |
Child cries in her sleep | |
Night waits for the dawn with baited breath. | |
The old school, the old rule | |
Rung out on a muffinman' s bell | |
The lamplighter has made his nightly call. | |
Dreams of hope and peace | |
Sent clattering down the streets | |
Empty like the promises they made. | |
The wars rage on, and different wrongs | |
Will someone please explain | |
That peace is not the lamplighter | |
' Cos he' s not coming back again. |
zuò cí : McTell | |
Night stirs her inky finger | |
In the water of the day, | |
The tired sun drops slowly in the sky. | |
And everywhere the gentle air | |
Hangs heavy with the day song | |
Evening calls the lamplight out to come. | |
Children' s wooden hoops | |
Go clattering down the street | |
Soon they' re called inside, it' s getting late. | |
The grand canal | |
Now splashed with red | |
Reflects on swallows wings. | |
The lamplighter knows the song | |
The evening sings. | |
But the gaslamps stand like soldiers | |
Hiss warnings to the wind | |
Their evening vespers prophicy a war. | |
The world divides | |
And men take sides | |
The spark bursts into flame | |
Nothing can be quite the same again. | |
Dog barks in the distance | |
Child cries in her sleep | |
Night waits for the dawn with baited breath. | |
The old school, the old rule | |
Rung out on a muffinman' s bell | |
The lamplighter has made his nightly call. | |
Dreams of hope and peace | |
Sent clattering down the streets | |
Empty like the promises they made. | |
The wars rage on, and different wrongs | |
Will someone please explain | |
That peace is not the lamplighter | |
' Cos he' s not coming back again. |