| 歌曲 | Sittin' on the Front Porch Swing |
| 歌手 | Dolly Parton |
| 专辑 | Honky Tonk Angels |
| 作词 : Sheffield | |
| I remember a time when the bloom was on the cotton | |
| When our hearts chased the clouds like the swallow on the wing | |
| When our cares which were already few, some forgotten | |
| Just sitting on the front porch swing | |
| Oh we'd sit every Sunday, and watch the married ladies | |
| And we'd dream of white dresses and church bells in the spring | |
| And they'd talk and paint their nails while they let us hold their babies | |
| Sitting on the front porch swing | |
| Where was I when the time came to join the married ladies | |
| Why did I paint the nail when the finger had no ring | |
| Why do I sit at my age and long to hold their babies | |
| Sitting on the front porch swing | |
| When the mind longs to follow, but the memory erases | |
| And the lips form the words that the heart no longer sings | |
| When the leaves in the hollow have been dyed to match our faces | |
| Sitting on the front porch swing | |
| Oh we'll dream of the time when the bloom was on the cotton | |
| When our hearts chased the clouds like the swallow on the wing | |
| But the words to the rhyme are not the only things forgotten | |
| Sitting on the front porch swing |
| zuò cí : Sheffield | |
| I remember a time when the bloom was on the cotton | |
| When our hearts chased the clouds like the swallow on the wing | |
| When our cares which were already few, some forgotten | |
| Just sitting on the front porch swing | |
| Oh we' d sit every Sunday, and watch the married ladies | |
| And we' d dream of white dresses and church bells in the spring | |
| And they' d talk and paint their nails while they let us hold their babies | |
| Sitting on the front porch swing | |
| Where was I when the time came to join the married ladies | |
| Why did I paint the nail when the finger had no ring | |
| Why do I sit at my age and long to hold their babies | |
| Sitting on the front porch swing | |
| When the mind longs to follow, but the memory erases | |
| And the lips form the words that the heart no longer sings | |
| When the leaves in the hollow have been dyed to match our faces | |
| Sitting on the front porch swing | |
| Oh we' ll dream of the time when the bloom was on the cotton | |
| When our hearts chased the clouds like the swallow on the wing | |
| But the words to the rhyme are not the only things forgotten | |
| Sitting on the front porch swing |