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Frederic Woodman Root
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10. Bryska - Echo
Frederic Woodman Root - The Old Oaken Bucket
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Tekst piosenki:
How dear to my heart are the scenes of my childhood,
When fond recollection presents them to view.
The orchard, the meadow, the deep tangled wildwood,
And all the loved spots that my infancy knew.
The wide spreading pond and the mill that stood by it,
The bridge and the rock where the cataract fell.
Ah, ah, ah…
The cot of my father, the daily house nigh it,
And e'en the rude bucket that hung in the well.
The old oaken bucket, the iron bound bucket,
The moss covered bucket that hung in the well,
that hung in the well,
The old oaken bucket that hung in the well.
When fond recollection presents them to view.
The orchard, the meadow, the deep tangled wildwood,
And all the loved spots that my infancy knew.
The wide spreading pond and the mill that stood by it,
The bridge and the rock where the cataract fell.
Ah, ah, ah…
The cot of my father, the daily house nigh it,
And e'en the rude bucket that hung in the well.
The old oaken bucket, the iron bound bucket,
The moss covered bucket that hung in the well,
that hung in the well,
The old oaken bucket that hung in the well.
Dodaj adnotację do tego tekstu » Historia edycji tekstu
| Tekst: |
Samuel Woodworth Edytuj metrykę |
|---|---|
| Muzyka: |
Robert Archibald Smith, George Kiallmark |
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