《The Old Bog Road》歌词

[00:00:00] The Old Bog Road - Josef Locke

[00:00:09] My feet are here on Broadway

[00:00:13] This blessed harvest morn

[00:00:16] And oh the ache that's in them

[00:00:20] For the lpot where I was born

[00:00:23] My weary hands are blistered

[00:00:27] Through work in cold and heat

[00:00:30] And oh to swingscythe today

[00:00:34] Through a field of Irish wheat

[00:00:38] Had I the chance to wander back

[00:00:42] Or own a kings abode

[00:00:46] I'd sooner see the hawthorn tree

[00:00:50] By the Old Bog Road

[00:01:04] My mother died last springtime'

[00:01:08] When Erins fields were green

[00:01:11] The neighbours said her waking

[00:01:15] Was the finest ever seen

[00:01:19] There were snowdrops and primroses

[00:01:23] Piled high beside her bed'

[00:01:27] And Ferns Church was crowded

[00:01:31] When her funeral Mass was read

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

[00:01:40] A-building bricks per load

[00:01:44] When they carried out her coffin

[00:01:50] Down the old Bog Road

[00:02:03] And lifes a weary puzzle'

[00:02:07] Past finding out by man'

[00:02:10] I'll take the day for what it's worth

[00:02:14] And do the best I can

[00:02:18] Since no one cares a rush for me

[00:02:21] What need to make come moan'

[00:02:24] I'll go my way and draw my pay

[00:02:28] And smoke my pipe alone

[00:02:32] Each human heart must bear its grief

[00:02:37] Though bitter be the lode

[00:02:42] So God be with you' Ireland'

[00:02:49] And the Old Bog Road