Joan Baez
Birmingham Sunday
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3.67 МБ
Битрейт
128 кбит/c
Длительность
4:01
31
| Добавлена 9 апреля 2013 пользователем Миша |
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Текст песни Birmingham Sunday
Come round by my side and I'll sing you a song
I'll sing it so softly, it'll do no one wrong
On Birmingham Sunday, the blood ran like wine
And the choir kept singing of freedom
That cold autumn morning no eyes saw the sun
And Addie Mae Collins, her number was one
At an old Baptist church, there was no need to run
And the choir kept singing of freedom
The clouds they were gray and the autumn winds blew
And Denise McNair brought the number to two
The falcon of Death was a creature they knew
And the choir kept singing of freedom
The church it was crowded but no one could see
That Cynthia Wesley's dark number was three
Her prayers and her feelings would shame you and me
And the choir kept singing of freedom
Young Carol Robertson entered the door
And the number her killers had given was four
She asked for a blessing, but asked for no more
And the choir kept singing of freedom
On Birmingham Sunday the noise shook the ground
And people all over the earth turned around
For no one recalled a more cowardly sounds
And the choir kept singing of freedom
The men in the forest, they asked it of me
How many blackberries grew in the blue sea
And I asked them right with a tear in my eye
How many dark ships in the forest
The Sunday has come and the Sunday has gone
And I can't do much more than to sing you this song
I'll sing it so softly, it'll do no one wrong
And the choirs keep singing of freedom
I'll sing it so softly, it'll do no one wrong
On Birmingham Sunday, the blood ran like wine
And the choir kept singing of freedom
That cold autumn morning no eyes saw the sun
And Addie Mae Collins, her number was one
At an old Baptist church, there was no need to run
And the choir kept singing of freedom
The clouds they were gray and the autumn winds blew
And Denise McNair brought the number to two
The falcon of Death was a creature they knew
And the choir kept singing of freedom
The church it was crowded but no one could see
That Cynthia Wesley's dark number was three
Her prayers and her feelings would shame you and me
And the choir kept singing of freedom
Young Carol Robertson entered the door
And the number her killers had given was four
She asked for a blessing, but asked for no more
And the choir kept singing of freedom
On Birmingham Sunday the noise shook the ground
And people all over the earth turned around
For no one recalled a more cowardly sounds
And the choir kept singing of freedom
The men in the forest, they asked it of me
How many blackberries grew in the blue sea
And I asked them right with a tear in my eye
How many dark ships in the forest
The Sunday has come and the Sunday has gone
And I can't do much more than to sing you this song
I'll sing it so softly, it'll do no one wrong
And the choirs keep singing of freedom
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