paroles de chanson Banks of the Old Bandera - Jerry Jeff Walker
                                                Rodney 
                                                Crowell
 
                                    
                                
                                                On 
                                                the 
                                                banks 
                                                of 
                                                the 
                                                ole 
                                                Bandera 
                                                runs 
                                                    a 
                                                barefoot 
                                                child
 
                                    
                                
                                                Takin' 
                                                Sunday-go-to-meetin' 
                                                shortcuts
 
                                    
                                
                                                He's 
                                                out 
                                                across 
                                                those 
                                                open 
                                                fields, 
                                                down 
                                                those 
                                                dusty 
                                                drives
 
                                    
                                
                                                The 
                                                hills 
                                                that 
                                                wear 
                                                blue 
                                                bonnets, 
                                                they 
                                                look 
                                                like 
                                                    a 
                                                print 
                                                dressing 
                                                gown
 
                                    
                                
                                                Thru 
                                                the 
                                                summer 
                                                rains, 
                                                that 
                                                pur 
                                                down 
                                                like 
                                                honey
 
                                    
                                
                                                They 
                                                help 
                                                make 
                                                the 
                                                mushrooms 
                                                grow 
                                                and 
                                                that 
                                                always 
                                                make 
                                                the 
                                                B-man 
                                                dance
 
                                    
                                
                                                Once 
                                                we 
                                                ran 
                                                barefoot 
                                                through 
                                                those 
                                                clovers 
                                                so 
                                                wet 
                                                with 
                                                dew
 
                                    
                                
                                                Like 
                                                wild 
                                                Comanches' 
                                                crazy 
                                                horses 
                                                on 
                                                the 
                                                loose
 
                                    
                                
                                                Sometimes 
                                                it 
                                                feels 
                                                like 
                                                    a 
                                                song
 
                                    
                                
                                                Sometimes 
                                                it 
                                                makes 
                                                me 
                                                feel 
                                                like 
                                                it's 
                                                gone
 
                                    
                                
                                                Now 
                                                it 
                                                all 
                                                feels 
                                                like 
                                                    a 
                                                song
 
                                    
                                
                                                You 
                                                can 
                                                hear 
                                                    a 
                                                screen 
                                                door 
                                                slammin', 
                                                hey 
                                                let's 
                                                run 
                                                    a 
                                                foot 
                                                race 
                                                to 
                                                the 
                                                creek
 
                                    
                                
                                                Where 
                                                you 
                                                see 
                                                clear 
                                                down 
                                                to 
                                                the 
                                                bottom 
                                                of 
                                                the 
                                                deep 
                                                end
 
                                    
                                
                                                Dependin' 
                                                on 
                                                where 
                                                you 
                                                stand, 
                                                how 
                                                you 
                                                look, 
                                                and 
                                                what 
                                                you 
                                                want 
                                                to 
                                                see
 
                                    
                                
                                                Monkey 
                                                vines, 
                                                swimmin' 
                                                holes 
-                                                weren't 
                                                they 
                                                always 
                                                around 
                                                the 
                                                bend
 
                                    
                                
                                                And 
                                                that 
                                                rope 
                                                we 
                                                used 
                                                to 
                                                swing 
                                                on, 
                                                now 
                                                it 
                                                just 
                                                hangs 
                                                tattered 
                                                by 
                                                the 
                                                wind
 
                                    
                                
                                                Down 
                                                on 
                                                the 
                                                banks 
                                                of 
                                                the 
                                                ole 
                                                Bandera
 
                                    
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