dreams don't work unless you do
Каррентные заевшие в мозгах строчки -
She's the most distressful counterie that ever yet was seen,
And they're hanging men and women for the wearing of the green.
И даже не включить. Потому что сейчас четыре ночи и все спят. Вот это - настоящая засада!
She's the most distressful counterie that ever yet was seen,
And they're hanging men and women for the wearing of the green.
И даже не включить. Потому что сейчас четыре ночи и все спят. Вот это - настоящая засада!
*любя Анатолию всей силой своего неадекватного отсутствия души* Это "Нося зеленое". Читала "Унесенных ветром"?%) Любимая пестнь Джеральда О'Хара. Я сама скачивала через WinMX... ее стоит послушать, чесслово. Номер два после анатолиных фродосэмов, что срывает крышу в последнее время.
The shamrock is forbid by law to grow on Irish ground;
St. Patrick's Day no more we'll keep, his colours can't be seen,
For there's a bloody law against the wearing of the green.
I met with Napper Tandy and he took me by the hand,
And he said, "How's poor old Ireland, and how does she stand?"
She's the most distressful counterie that ever yet was seen,
And they're hanging men and women for the wearing of the green.
Then since the colour we must wear is England's cruel red,
Sure Ireland's sons will ne'er forget the blood that they have shed.
You may take a shamrock from your hat and cast it on the sod,
It will take root and flourish there though underfoot it's trod.
When law can stop the blades of grass from growing as they grow,
And when the leaves in summer-time their verdure dare not show,
Then will I change the colour that I wear in my caubeen
But 'till that day, please God, I'll stick to wearing of the green.
But if at last our colour should be torn from Ireland's heart,
Our sons with shame and sorrow from this dear old isle will part;
I've heard a whisper of a land that lies beyond the sea
Where rich and poor stand equal in the light of freedom's day.
O Erin, must we leave you driven by a tyrant's hand?
Must we ask a mother's blessing from a strange and distant land?
Where the cruel cross of England shall nevermore be seen,
And where, please God, we'll live and die still wearing of the green!
А со словами я не нашла =( Музыка - да, и на стихи точно ложится... Не подскажешь, где все вместе можно найти?
А песня какая-то не по-ирландски печальная.
А вот эту я помнится, в переходе пела. Другая девочка была с бубном и за Йоку =)
f you had the luck of the Irish
You'd be sorry and wish you were dead
You should have the luck of the Irish
And you'd wish you was English instead!
A thousand years of torture and hunger
Drove the people away from their land
A land full of beauty and wonder
Was raped by the British brigands! Goddamn! Goddamn!
If you could keep voices like flowers
There'd be shamrock all over the world
If you could drink dreams like Irish streams
Then the world would be high as the mountain of morn
In the 'Pool they told us the story
How the English divided the land
Of the pain, the death and the glory
And the poets of auld Eireland
If we could make chains with the morning dew
The world would be like Galway Bay
Let's walk over rainbows like leprechauns
The world would be one big Blarney stone
Буду счастлива заиметь рядом послушавшую это Анатолию))