歌曲 | Seven Little Indians |
歌手 | John Hiatt |
专辑 | Stolen Moments |
下载 | Image LRC TXT |
作词 : Hiatt | |
There were seven little indians | |
Living in a brick house on | |
Central avenue | |
Gathered 'round their daddy | |
Tellin' stories in the living room | |
From a slightly unrealistic point of view | |
Momma was off yonder in the kitchen somewhere | |
Boiling up some hot water for them to all get up to their necks in | |
The seven little indians new | |
If the rest of the tribe ever scrutinized their household | |
Somehow it would not pass inspection | |
The big chief railed on | |
And spun his tales of brave conquest | |
About the moving of his little band | |
Up to alaska | |
Where the caribou run free | |
See he had been there putting in telephone lines | |
For the army during world war ii | |
Even brought back a picture of a frozen mastodon | |
For the little indians to see | |
And some mukluks and some sealskin gloves | |
And a coat with beads around the collar | |
His wife kept them in the mothballs | |
Underneath the hudson bays | |
And every once and a while he'd get all wound up | |
With one of his stories, he'd put them all on | |
And dance around in that blue tv light | |
Like it was some campfire blazing away | |
Well he stamped and he hollered | |
But he could not stay warm in that living room | |
And even the seven little indians could feel the chill | |
And although everything always worked | |
Out for the better in all of his stories | |
In that old brick house it always felt like | |
Something was movin' in for the kill | |
Blazing like a trail | |
Shot through the eyes of the seven little indians | |
Blazing like the sheets of light dancing up in the sky | |
Up above anchorage | |
Blazing like a star shot down to the ground | |
Back home again in indiana | |
Now it finally got so quiet you could hear a pin drop | |
They started dropping like flies | |
The oldest little indian got sick and vanished | |
The big chief went two years later | |
The mother raised the six little indians up | |
The best she could | |
To be housewives, musicians, and insurance salesmen | |
But they all shared this common denominator | |
You see, all the characters in the big chief's stories | |
Were named after the seven little indians | |
And like i said, in his stories everything | |
Always worked out for the better | |
And now as i'm telling this stuff to my own kids | |
Dancing around in that blue tv light | |
Well, i wish i had those mukluks, those sealskin gloves | |
And that coat with beads around the collar |
zuo ci : Hiatt | |
There were seven little indians | |
Living in a brick house on | |
Central avenue | |
Gathered ' round their daddy | |
Tellin' stories in the living room | |
From a slightly unrealistic point of view | |
Momma was off yonder in the kitchen somewhere | |
Boiling up some hot water for them to all get up to their necks in | |
The seven little indians new | |
If the rest of the tribe ever scrutinized their household | |
Somehow it would not pass inspection | |
The big chief railed on | |
And spun his tales of brave conquest | |
About the moving of his little band | |
Up to alaska | |
Where the caribou run free | |
See he had been there putting in telephone lines | |
For the army during world war ii | |
Even brought back a picture of a frozen mastodon | |
For the little indians to see | |
And some mukluks and some sealskin gloves | |
And a coat with beads around the collar | |
His wife kept them in the mothballs | |
Underneath the hudson bays | |
And every once and a while he' d get all wound up | |
With one of his stories, he' d put them all on | |
And dance around in that blue tv light | |
Like it was some campfire blazing away | |
Well he stamped and he hollered | |
But he could not stay warm in that living room | |
And even the seven little indians could feel the chill | |
And although everything always worked | |
Out for the better in all of his stories | |
In that old brick house it always felt like | |
Something was movin' in for the kill | |
Blazing like a trail | |
Shot through the eyes of the seven little indians | |
Blazing like the sheets of light dancing up in the sky | |
Up above anchorage | |
Blazing like a star shot down to the ground | |
Back home again in indiana | |
Now it finally got so quiet you could hear a pin drop | |
They started dropping like flies | |
The oldest little indian got sick and vanished | |
The big chief went two years later | |
The mother raised the six little indians up | |
The best she could | |
To be housewives, musicians, and insurance salesmen | |
But they all shared this common denominator | |
You see, all the characters in the big chief' s stories | |
Were named after the seven little indians | |
And like i said, in his stories everything | |
Always worked out for the better | |
And now as i' m telling this stuff to my own kids | |
Dancing around in that blue tv light | |
Well, i wish i had those mukluks, those sealskin gloves | |
And that coat with beads around the collar |
zuò cí : Hiatt | |
There were seven little indians | |
Living in a brick house on | |
Central avenue | |
Gathered ' round their daddy | |
Tellin' stories in the living room | |
From a slightly unrealistic point of view | |
Momma was off yonder in the kitchen somewhere | |
Boiling up some hot water for them to all get up to their necks in | |
The seven little indians new | |
If the rest of the tribe ever scrutinized their household | |
Somehow it would not pass inspection | |
The big chief railed on | |
And spun his tales of brave conquest | |
About the moving of his little band | |
Up to alaska | |
Where the caribou run free | |
See he had been there putting in telephone lines | |
For the army during world war ii | |
Even brought back a picture of a frozen mastodon | |
For the little indians to see | |
And some mukluks and some sealskin gloves | |
And a coat with beads around the collar | |
His wife kept them in the mothballs | |
Underneath the hudson bays | |
And every once and a while he' d get all wound up | |
With one of his stories, he' d put them all on | |
And dance around in that blue tv light | |
Like it was some campfire blazing away | |
Well he stamped and he hollered | |
But he could not stay warm in that living room | |
And even the seven little indians could feel the chill | |
And although everything always worked | |
Out for the better in all of his stories | |
In that old brick house it always felt like | |
Something was movin' in for the kill | |
Blazing like a trail | |
Shot through the eyes of the seven little indians | |
Blazing like the sheets of light dancing up in the sky | |
Up above anchorage | |
Blazing like a star shot down to the ground | |
Back home again in indiana | |
Now it finally got so quiet you could hear a pin drop | |
They started dropping like flies | |
The oldest little indian got sick and vanished | |
The big chief went two years later | |
The mother raised the six little indians up | |
The best she could | |
To be housewives, musicians, and insurance salesmen | |
But they all shared this common denominator | |
You see, all the characters in the big chief' s stories | |
Were named after the seven little indians | |
And like i said, in his stories everything | |
Always worked out for the better | |
And now as i' m telling this stuff to my own kids | |
Dancing around in that blue tv light | |
Well, i wish i had those mukluks, those sealskin gloves | |
And that coat with beads around the collar |