Through all the years that he’s away,
And all the years you’re on your own.
All that time you’re waiting for
The news that he’s not coming home.
You know the job he has to do,
You share his danger every day.
And you get angry when you think
The army stole your man away.
And through the lonely months and years
You struggle by to raise the kids.
While he’s away, with guns and blood,
You live in fear of widowhood.
And every day you listen hard,
To hear the step that rings the bell,
The warning bell that brings the news,
The dreaded news that they will tell.
Then work and want and bide your time,
And put your faith in God above.
And cry yourself to sleep each night
For anxious fear of him you love.
For soldiers march to earn their dole,
And soldiers fight to make their bread.
Some say the lucky ones come home,
Some say the lucky ones are dead.
And all the years you’re on your own.
All that time you’re waiting for
The news that he’s not coming home.
You know the job he has to do,
You share his danger every day.
And you get angry when you think
The army stole your man away.
And through the lonely months and years
You struggle by to raise the kids.
While he’s away, with guns and blood,
You live in fear of widowhood.
And every day you listen hard,
To hear the step that rings the bell,
The warning bell that brings the news,
The dreaded news that they will tell.
Then work and want and bide your time,
And put your faith in God above.
And cry yourself to sleep each night
For anxious fear of him you love.
For soldiers march to earn their dole,
And soldiers fight to make their bread.
Some say the lucky ones come home,
Some say the lucky ones are dead.
envoyé par Bernart Bartleby - 25/3/2015 - 14:26
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Parole e musica di W. J. “Bill” Adair
Nell’album "Dusty Boots on a Gravel Road"