Boreal 歌词

	There’s a pleasant port where a boy fixed his course
	On a lesser-trodden landscape north
	And on his journey boreal met one corporeal
	One returning journey forth
	“What draws you to the barren there,” he said
	“That land is nothing but dampen dread
	And sour berries, and rotten cherries
	And icy rime and that snowy, snowy pine
	That bleak, bare lawn is woebegone
	But carry, carry, carry on”
	“Oh no,” he said “You must have misunderstood
	It’s not the land’s comestible goods
	Not the berry that I seek, bbut the way it hangs on the arrow wood
	And I am not after that snowy shawl
	But the way the faint flakes float and fall
	And to me that alabaster milky rime
	Is as sweet as sugar and just as fine
	And I don’t care one bit that the pines are gone
	But I do care what they look like at dawn
	I’m not concerned that their life is drawn
	But what happens to the land without their brawn.”
	And so his journey goes, though his story’s old
	But a tale is not trite if it’s still being told

	There' s a pleasant port where a boy fixed his course
	On a lessertrodden landscape north
	And on his journey boreal met one corporeal
	One returning journey forth
	" What draws you to the barren there," he said
	" That land is nothing but dampen dread
	And sour berries, and rotten cherries
	And icy rime and that snowy, snowy pine
	That bleak, bare lawn is woebegone
	But carry, carry, carry on"
	" Oh no," he said " You must have misunderstood
	It' s not the land' s comestible goods
	Not the berry that I seek, bbut the way it hangs on the arrow wood
	And I am not after that snowy shawl
	But the way the faint flakes float and fall
	And to me that alabaster milky rime
	Is as sweet as sugar and just as fine
	And I don' t care one bit that the pines are gone
	But I do care what they look like at dawn
	I' m not concerned that their life is drawn
	But what happens to the land without their brawn."
	And so his journey goes, though his story' s old
	But a tale is not trite if it' s still being told

	There' s a pleasant port where a boy fixed his course
	On a lessertrodden landscape north
	And on his journey boreal met one corporeal
	One returning journey forth
	" What draws you to the barren there," he said
	" That land is nothing but dampen dread
	And sour berries, and rotten cherries
	And icy rime and that snowy, snowy pine
	That bleak, bare lawn is woebegone
	But carry, carry, carry on"
	" Oh no," he said " You must have misunderstood
	It' s not the land' s comestible goods
	Not the berry that I seek, bbut the way it hangs on the arrow wood
	And I am not after that snowy shawl
	But the way the faint flakes float and fall
	And to me that alabaster milky rime
	Is as sweet as sugar and just as fine
	And I don' t care one bit that the pines are gone
	But I do care what they look like at dawn
	I' m not concerned that their life is drawn
	But what happens to the land without their brawn."
	And so his journey goes, though his story' s old
	But a tale is not trite if it' s still being told

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