Lift My Jug (Song for Hub Cale) 歌词
| 歌曲 | Lift My Jug (Song for Hub Cale) |
| 歌手 | William Elliott Whitmore |
| 专辑 | Ashes to Dust |
| 下载 | Image LRC TXT |
| 作词 : Whitmore | |
| Well I don't care about my sorrows | |
| And I don't care about my woes | |
| I put my knees down in the sand | |
| Down where that river flows | |
| I put my hands in the water | |
| Look for my elbows in the cold | |
| I let it wash my dirty face | |
| Let it clense my troubled soul | |
| Well, my name is Hub Cale | |
| And my home is whereever I lay | |
| And I was born to ride the rails | |
| Ride the rail til judgement day | |
| My face is wrinkled and weary | |
| As rough as railroad tie | |
| And when that train come rumblin' through this town | |
| I lift my jug to the sky | |
| Oh lord | |
| Well, I lift my jug to the sky | |
| And when that number 9 come rollin' by | |
| I lift my jug to the sky | |
| For I was an engineer | |
| I made my livin' shovelin' coal | |
| Paid my dues for 12 long years | |
| Then one day they let me go | |
| And that time it sure was rough | |
| And the labor sure took its toil | |
| For my lungs are as black | |
| As the feathers of the crow | |
| Now I lay underneath the trestle | |
| With my jug of homemade rye | |
| And when that train come rumblin' through this town | |
| I lift it up to the sky |
| zuo ci : Whitmore | |
| Well I don' t care about my sorrows | |
| And I don' t care about my woes | |
| I put my knees down in the sand | |
| Down where that river flows | |
| I put my hands in the water | |
| Look for my elbows in the cold | |
| I let it wash my dirty face | |
| Let it clense my troubled soul | |
| Well, my name is Hub Cale | |
| And my home is whereever I lay | |
| And I was born to ride the rails | |
| Ride the rail til judgement day | |
| My face is wrinkled and weary | |
| As rough as railroad tie | |
| And when that train come rumblin' through this town | |
| I lift my jug to the sky | |
| Oh lord | |
| Well, I lift my jug to the sky | |
| And when that number 9 come rollin' by | |
| I lift my jug to the sky | |
| For I was an engineer | |
| I made my livin' shovelin' coal | |
| Paid my dues for 12 long years | |
| Then one day they let me go | |
| And that time it sure was rough | |
| And the labor sure took its toil | |
| For my lungs are as black | |
| As the feathers of the crow | |
| Now I lay underneath the trestle | |
| With my jug of homemade rye | |
| And when that train come rumblin' through this town | |
| I lift it up to the sky |
| zuò cí : Whitmore | |
| Well I don' t care about my sorrows | |
| And I don' t care about my woes | |
| I put my knees down in the sand | |
| Down where that river flows | |
| I put my hands in the water | |
| Look for my elbows in the cold | |
| I let it wash my dirty face | |
| Let it clense my troubled soul | |
| Well, my name is Hub Cale | |
| And my home is whereever I lay | |
| And I was born to ride the rails | |
| Ride the rail til judgement day | |
| My face is wrinkled and weary | |
| As rough as railroad tie | |
| And when that train come rumblin' through this town | |
| I lift my jug to the sky | |
| Oh lord | |
| Well, I lift my jug to the sky | |
| And when that number 9 come rollin' by | |
| I lift my jug to the sky | |
| For I was an engineer | |
| I made my livin' shovelin' coal | |
| Paid my dues for 12 long years | |
| Then one day they let me go | |
| And that time it sure was rough | |
| And the labor sure took its toil | |
| For my lungs are as black | |
| As the feathers of the crow | |
| Now I lay underneath the trestle | |
| With my jug of homemade rye | |
| And when that train come rumblin' through this town | |
| I lift it up to the sky |
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