Cайт является помещением библиотеки. Все тексты в библиотеке предназначены для ознакомительного чтения.

Копирование, сохранение на жестком диске или иной способ сохранения произведений осуществляются пользователями на свой риск.

Карта сайта

Все книги

Случайная

Разделы

Авторы

Новинки

Подборки

По оценкам

По популярности

По авторам

Рейтинг@Mail.ru

Flag Counter

Поэзия и песни
Автора нет или неизвестен
The very last time

 When I left home for the very last time
 my father ranted and stamped his feet.
 Mother she wept and cried from the window
 just wait and see, soon sorrow you\'ll meet.
 
 When I left home for the very last time
 I found myself silently weeping,
 Because I was born to roam the world,
 to the roads and byways keeping.
 
 When I left home for the very last time,
 carrying my few possessions,
 all the boys I met on the way
 were ones who\'d declared their intentions.
 
 Why did you have to pull my leg
 when I was still but a youngster?
 Why could you simply not let me grow up
 and become a little wiser?
 
 Why did you have to trick me,
 and bring me nothing but heartache?
 Why could you not stay at home
 and a life with your good mother make?
 
 Why did you have to fool me,
 filling my heart with sorrow?
 Why did you let me drag my grief
 like a mound of sand in a barrow?
 
 If only I had died as a babe,
 safe in my godmother\'s embrace,
 I wouldn\'t have had to wander abroad
 and the cruel, wicked world ever face.
 
 

Число просмотров текста: 2285; в день: 0.6

Оцените этот текст:

Разработка: © Творческая группа "Экватор", 2011-2014

Версия системы: 1.0

Связаться с разработчиками: libbabr@gmail.com

0