《The Old Bog Road》歌词

[00:00:00] The Old Bog Road - Hank Locklin

[00:00:16] My feet are here on Broadway

[00:00:20] This blessed harvest mornin'

[00:00:24] But oh the ache that's in them

[00:00:27] For the spot where I was born

[00:00:31] My weary hands are blistered

[00:00:34] Through work in cold and heat

[00:00:38] And oh to swing a scythe day

[00:00:42] Through a field of Irish wheat

[00:00:45] Had I the chance to wander back

[00:00:49] Or own a king’s abode

[00:00:52] I’d sooner see the hawthorn tree

[00:00:56] By the Old Bog Road

[00:01:07] My mother died last springtime

[00:01:10] When Erin’s fields were green

[00:01:14] The neighbours said her waking

[00:01:17] Was the finest ever seen

[00:01:21] There were snowdrops and primroses

[00:01:25] Piled high beside her bed

[00:01:28] And Ferns Church was crowded

[00:01:32] When her funeral Mass was said

[00:01:35] And here was I on Broadway

[00:01:39] Just feeling bricks my load

[00:01:42] When they carried out her coffin

[00:01:45] Down the old Bog Road

[00:01:57] Ah life’s a weary puzzle

[00:02:00] Past finding out by man

[00:02:04] I’ll take the day for what it’s worth

[00:02:07] And do the best I can

[00:02:11] Since no one cares a rush for me

[00:02:15] Why need I make a moan

[00:02:18] I'll go my way and draw my pay

[00:02:22] And smoke my pipe alone

[00:02:25] Each very heart must have his grief

[00:02:29] Though bitter be the load

[00:02:34] So God be with you Ireland

[00:02:42] And the Old Bog Road