Song | Red Buds |
Artist | William Elliott Whitmore |
Album | Song of the Blackbird |
作词 : Whitmore | |
The wind blows hard up in whipoorwill hill | |
And the red buds sway in the breeze | |
If you listen real close you can hear | |
The desperate cry of a broken man on his knees | |
The rain beats hard on a poor man's head | |
The wind pulls the nails out of the tin roof of the shed | |
And the water keeps on rising | |
At the old homestead | |
If the corn's knee high by the fourth of July | |
And mother nature smiles on us all, | |
And there's a ring around the moon | |
That means rain is coming soon | |
And we'll have a good harvest this fall | |
The rain beats hard on a poor man's head | |
The wind pulls the nails out of the tin roof of the shed | |
The moon keeps on shining | |
On the old homestead | |
The wind blows through the wheatfield at night | |
And it plays a lonely tune | |
The bones clatter in the trees, waving in the summer breeze | |
And there ain't nothing like Lee County in June | |
The rain beats hard on a poor man's head | |
The wind pulls the nails out of the tin roof of the shed | |
The river keeps on flowing by | |
The old homestead |
zuò cí : Whitmore | |
The wind blows hard up in whipoorwill hill | |
And the red buds sway in the breeze | |
If you listen real close you can hear | |
The desperate cry of a broken man on his knees | |
The rain beats hard on a poor man' s head | |
The wind pulls the nails out of the tin roof of the shed | |
And the water keeps on rising | |
At the old homestead | |
If the corn' s knee high by the fourth of July | |
And mother nature smiles on us all, | |
And there' s a ring around the moon | |
That means rain is coming soon | |
And we' ll have a good harvest this fall | |
The rain beats hard on a poor man' s head | |
The wind pulls the nails out of the tin roof of the shed | |
The moon keeps on shining | |
On the old homestead | |
The wind blows through the wheatfield at night | |
And it plays a lonely tune | |
The bones clatter in the trees, waving in the summer breeze | |
And there ain' t nothing like Lee County in June | |
The rain beats hard on a poor man' s head | |
The wind pulls the nails out of the tin roof of the shed | |
The river keeps on flowing by | |
The old homestead |