Christy moore natives - teksty piosenek, wg trafności (od zawsze) - Teksciory.pl

The Wicklow Boy - Christy Moore

"As I walked past Portlaoise Prison "I'm innocent", a voice was heard to say "My frame-up is almost completed. My people all look the other way. " Seven years ago his torture started A forced confession"

The Time Has Come - Christy Moore

"The time has come to part, my love, I must go away I leave you now, my darling girl, No longer can I stay. My heart like yours is breaking Together we'll prove strong The road I take will show the world The"

Curragh Of Kildare - Christy Moore

"The winter it has passed And the summer's come at last The small birds are singing in the trees And their little hearts are glad Ah, but mine is very sad Since my true love is far away from me And straight"

Section 31 - Christy Moore

"Who are they to decide what we should hear? Who are they to decide what we should see? What do they think we can't comprehend here? What do they fear that our reaction might be, might be? Section 31 on"

The City Of Chicago - Christy Moore

"In the City of Chicago As the evening shadows fall There are people dreaming Of the hills of Donegal 1847 was the year it all began Deadly pains of hunger drove a million from the land They journeyed"

Ride On - Christy Moore

"True you ride the finest horse I have ever seen Standing sixteen, one or two, with eyes wild and green And you ride the horse so well, hands light to the touch I could never go with you no matter how I"

Vive La Quinte Brigada - Christy Moore

"Ten years before I saw the light of morning A comradeship of heroes was laid From every corner of the world came sailing The Fifth International Brigade They came to stand beside the Spanish people To"

Among The Wicklow Hills - Christy Moore

"The autumn evenings filled with copper shades I see the birds' neck in the frame A figure walks into the sunset Someone goes past suspended from the sky Takes more imagination When everything's remote"

Back Home In Derry - Christy Moore

"In 1803 we sailed out to sea Out from the sweet town of Derry. For Australia bound if we didn't all drown And the marks of our letters were heavy In the rusty iron chains we signed for our wanes Our women"

Burning Times - Christy Moore

"In the cold of the evening, they used to gather. Neath the stars in the meadow, circled near the old oak tree. At the times appointed.. by the seasons.. of the earth, and the phases of the moon. In the"

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