《If I Were Tickled By the Rub of Love》歌词

[00:00:00] If I Were Tickled By the Rub of Love - Dylan Thomas

[00:00:00] If I were tickled by the rub of love

[00:00:04] A rooking girl who stole me for her side

[00:00:07] Broke through her straws breaking my bandaged string

[00:00:12] If the red tickle as the cattle calve

[00:00:15] Still set to scratch a laughter from my lung

[00:00:19] I would not fear the apple nor the flood

[00:00:23] Nor the bad blood of spring

[00:00:27] Shall it be male or female

[00:00:29] Say the cells

[00:00:30] And drop the plum like fire from the flesh

[00:00:35] If I were tickled by the hatching hair

[00:00:37] The winging bone that sprouted in the heels

[00:00:41] The itch of man upon the baby's thigh

[00:00:44] I would not fear the gallows nor the axe

[00:00:48] Nor the crossed sticks of war

[00:00:52] Shall it be male or female

[00:00:54] Say the fingers

[00:00:56] That chalk the walls with green girls and their men

[00:01:00] I would not fear the muscling-in of love

[00:01:03] If I were tickled by the urchin hungers

[00:01:06] Rehearsing heat upon a raw-edged nerve

[00:01:10] I would not fear the devil in the loin

[00:01:13] Nor the outspoken grave

[00:01:17] If I were tickled by the lovers' rub

[00:01:19] That wipes away not crow's-foot nor the lock

[00:01:23] Of sick old manhood on the fallen jaws

[00:01:27] Time and the crabs and the sweethearting crib

[00:01:31] Would leave me cold as butter for the flies

[00:01:35] The sea of scums could drown me as it broke

[00:01:40] Dead on the sweethearts' toes

[00:01:45] This world is half the devil's and my own

[00:01:48] Daft with the drug that's smoking in a girl

[00:01:51] And curling round the bud that forks her eye

[00:01:55] An old man's shank one-marrowed with my bone

[00:02:00] And all the herrings smelling in the sea

[00:02:04] I sit and watch the worm beneath my nail

[00:02:09] Wearing the quick away

[00:02:13] And that's the rub the only rub that tickles

[00:02:17] The knobbly ape that swings along his sex

[00:02:20] From damp love-darkness and the nurse's twist

[00:02:24] Can never raise the midnight of a chuckle

[00:02:28] Nor when he finds a beauty in the breast

[00:02:31] Of loever mother lovers or his six

[00:02:35] Feet in the rubbing dust

[00:02:38] And what's the rub

[00:02:41] Death's feather on the nerve

[00:02:44] Your mouth my love the thistle in the kiss

[00:02:48] My Jack of Christ born thorny on the tree

[00:02:55] The words of death are dryer than his stiff

[00:02:59] My wordy wounds are printed with your hair

[00:03:04] I would be tickled by the rub that is

[00:03:10] Man be my metaphor