Sam Sweeny

Sam Sweeny - The Ballad Of Richard Howard songtekst

Je score:

A yorkshire man to flanders came
The mud shall be his winding sheet
A 14 pounder bore his name
Beyond the line at Ploegsteert

It tore the skin clean from his face
The mud shall be his winding sheet
And let the deads head in it’s place
Beyond the line at Ploegsteert

It split his belly like a plum
The mud shall be his winding sheet
And carried him off to kingdom come
Beyond the line at Ploegsteert

Poor dick is damp poor dick is dead
The mud shall be his winding sheet
A smoking crater for his bed
Beyond the line at Ploegsteert

His friends unsheathed his bayonet
The mud shall be his winding sheet
They’ll sing his song they’ll not forget
Beyond the lines at Ploegsteert

They cut the windpipe from his throat
The mud shall be his winding sheet
The string shall sing a pretty not
Beyond the line at Ploegsteert

The stretched it over his messed head
The mud will be his winding sheet
The body of a violin

As these men three the field they cut
The mud will be his winding sheet
And shaped the neck from a rifle butt
Beyond the line at Ploegsteert

They pulled out of his shattered leg
The mud will be his winding sheet
A bullet for a tuning peg
Beyond the line at Ploegsteert

His curving rib they cleaned with care
The mud shall be his winding sheet
And strung it with dead horses hair
Beyond the line at Ploegsteert

And when the dark of night closed in
The mud shall be his winding sheet
A tommy found the violin
And tucked it underneath his chin
And battle fury ceased its din
Beyond the line at Ploegsteert

He drew the bow and it sand with soul
The mud shall be his winding sheet
I loved the world and now it’s gone
Beyond the line at Ploegsteert

It sang again the day we wed
The mud shall be his winding sheet
Her breasts were soft and her lips were red
Beyond the line at Ploegsteert

It sang the wind the rain the sun
The mud shall be his winding sheet
And sweet rest when your work is done
Beyond the line at Ploegsteert

Across barbed wire the song ran clear
The mud shall be his winding sheet
And every soldier shared a tear
Beyond the line at Ploegsteert
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Taal: Engels

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