The Renegade Ian & Sylvia
На этой странице вы найдете полный текст песни "The Renegade" от Ian & Sylvia. Lyrxo предлагает вам самый полный и точный текст этой композиции без лишних отвлекающих факторов. Узнайте все куплеты и припев, чтобы лучше понять любимую песню и насладиться ею в полной мере. Идеально для фанатов и всех, кто ценит качественную музыку.
[Verse 1]
Up on the hillside policemen were climbin'
The ghosts of the night wind their fantasies did tell
Dark on the snow were the blood drops a-dryin'
Slipped through cold fingers a whiskey bottle fell
[Chorus]
Kla-how-ya, mother, I leave you with your white man
I curse their church that tells us that our fathers were wrong
And I'll hunt my own mowitch, and I'll drink my own whiskey
And I'll sing until morning the old fashioned song
[Verse 2]
Fires of the potlatch are scattered in their ashes
Masache-tamanawis, the еvil ones remain
And our children cannot follow thе old nor the new ways
And the poles of their fathers are rotting in the rain
[Chorus]
Kla-how-ya, mother, I leave you with your white man
I curse their church that tells us that our fathers were wrong
And I'll hunt my own mowitch, and I'll drink my own whiskey
And I'll sing until morning the old fashioned song
[Verse 3]
Daylight came late over high coastal mountains
The renegade stood watching with his rifle by his side
Then he emptied his gun up into the pale yellow sunrise
And he ran down the hillside to the place where he died
Up on the hillside policemen were climbin'
The ghosts of the night wind their fantasies did tell
Dark on the snow were the blood drops a-dryin'
Slipped through cold fingers a whiskey bottle fell
[Chorus]
Kla-how-ya, mother, I leave you with your white man
I curse their church that tells us that our fathers were wrong
And I'll hunt my own mowitch, and I'll drink my own whiskey
And I'll sing until morning the old fashioned song
[Verse 2]
Fires of the potlatch are scattered in their ashes
Masache-tamanawis, the еvil ones remain
And our children cannot follow thе old nor the new ways
And the poles of their fathers are rotting in the rain
[Chorus]
Kla-how-ya, mother, I leave you with your white man
I curse their church that tells us that our fathers were wrong
And I'll hunt my own mowitch, and I'll drink my own whiskey
And I'll sing until morning the old fashioned song
[Verse 3]
Daylight came late over high coastal mountains
The renegade stood watching with his rifle by his side
Then he emptied his gun up into the pale yellow sunrise
And he ran down the hillside to the place where he died
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