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American Land

Bruce Springsteen
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AMERICAN LAND

What is this land of America, so many travel there
I'm going now while I'm still young, my darling meet me there
Wish me luck my lovely, I'll send for you when I can
And we'll make our home in the American land

Over there all the woman wear silk and satin to their knees
And children dear, the sweets, I hear, are growing on the trees
Gold comes rushing out the river straight into your hands
If you make your home in the American land

There's diamonds in the sidewalks, there's gutters lined in song
Dear I hear that beer flows through the faucets all night long
There's treasure for the taking, for any hard working man
Who will make his home in the American land

I docked at Ellis Island in a city of light and spire
I wandered to the valley of red-hot steel and fire
We made the steel that built the cities with the sweat of our two hands
And I made my home in the American land

There's diamonds in the sidewalk, there's gutters lined in song
Dear I hear that beer flows through the faucets all night long
There's treasure for the taking, for any hard working man
Who will make his home in the American land

The McNicholas, the Posalski's, the Smiths, Zerillis too
The Blacks, the Irish, the Italians, the Germans and the Jews
The Puerto Ricans, illegals, the Asians, Arabs miles from home
Come across the water with a fire down below

They died building the railroads, worked to bones and skin
They died in the fields and factories, names scattered in the wind
They died to get here a hundred years ago, they're dyin' now
The hands that built the country we're all trying to keep down

There's diamonds in the sidewalk, there's gutters lined in song
Dear I hear that beer flows through the faucets all night long
There's treasure for the taking, for any hard working man
Who will make his home in the American land
Who will make his home in the American land
Who will make his home in the American land
AMERICAN LAND

'n vala la la domà par laorà fin a la sera
'n olta n' naeta a pe ades an và con la curiera
la not 'n turna 'n dre e canta l becalegn
la ca na faho hèmpar 'n de htà al de legn

No olta na soi mùcc sui mùcc a fasa l fe
fadighe po finide sagado tüto 'l de
a la fi de la giornada 'n nea nataffo l brègn
i sonaa soi senter i noh süpei de lègn

'na olta 'naa soi mucc po toc an galaria
i boce ie füdic envece i vecc i vala mia
le corne i già spetacc e 'n de ie gnicc a segn
e ia faso la hò ca 'n de sta al de legn

Argü le nacc 'n Francia la troat poca fortüna
chi svelcc ie nac an hvisera e ià implinit la cüna
l pö furbi ie stacc a baita a cantà col becalegn
e ia faso la hò ca 'n de sta al de legn

Ai morcc don San-Nadèr i pasado ance i viff
ma qualcun i turna 'n dre 'n de let ie mia cariff
la festa lìè finida e i vala 'n ver Malegn
a harca 'n po de palanche 'n de sta al de legn

Le he scürta le giornade ma 'ntat la cres la lüna
al de de feraoht fae gia bordel don den 'na cüna
'l por camel la traffo de tàsca 'n bel desegn
e la fasso la hò ca 'n de sta al de legn

la cà l'è mia finida ma lü l'è già partit
'n notra galaria 'l la giamò scundit
a sintit la cavra bedola al post del becalegn
e lui le gnit a ca con den vistit de legn
e lui le gnit a ca con den vistit de legn




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