Текст песни Only Our Rivers Run Free - Patsy Watchorn
                                                When 
                                                apples 
                                                still 
                                                grow 
                                                in 
                                                November
 
                                    
                                
                                                When 
                                                Blossoms 
                                                still 
                                                bloom 
                                                from 
                                                each 
                                                tree
 
                                    
                                
                                                When 
                                                leaves 
                                                are 
                                                still 
                                                green 
                                                in 
                                                December
 
                                    
                                
                                                It's 
                                                then 
                                                that 
                                                our 
                                                land 
                                                will 
                                                be 
                                                free
 
                                    
                                
                                                    I 
                                                wander 
                                                her 
                                                hills 
                                                and 
                                                her 
                                                valleys
 
                                    
                                
                                                And 
                                                still 
                                                through 
                                                my 
                                                sorrow 
                                                    I 
                                                see
 
                                    
                                
                                                    A 
                                                land 
                                                that 
                                                has 
                                                never 
                                                known 
                                                freedom
 
                                    
                                
                                                And 
                                                only 
                                                her 
                                                rivers 
                                                run 
                                                free
 
                                    
                                
                                                    I 
                                                drink 
                                                to 
                                                the 
                                                death 
                                                of 
                                                her 
                                                manhood
 
                                    
                                
                                                Those 
                                                men 
                                                who'd 
                                                rather 
                                                have 
                                                died
 
                                    
                                
                                                Than 
                                                to 
                                                live 
                                                in 
                                                the 
                                                cold 
                                                chains 
                                                of 
                                                bondage
 
                                    
                                
                                                To 
                                                bring 
                                                back 
                                                their 
                                                rights 
                                                were 
                                                denied
 
                                    
                                
                                                Oh 
                                                where 
                                                are 
                                                you 
                                                now 
                                                when 
                                                we 
                                                need 
                                                you
 
                                    
                                
                                                What 
                                                burns 
                                                where 
                                                the 
                                                flame 
                                                used 
                                                to 
                                                be
 
                                    
                                
                                                Are 
                                                ye 
                                                gone 
                                                like 
                                                the 
                                                snows 
                                                of 
                                                last 
                                                winter
 
                                    
                                
                                                And 
                                                still 
                                                only 
                                                our 
                                                rivers 
                                                run 
                                                free
 
                                    
                                
                                                How 
                                                sweet 
                                                is 
                                                life 
                                                but 
                                                we're 
                                                crying
 
                                    
                                
                                                How 
                                                mellow 
                                                the 
                                                wine 
                                                but 
                                                it's 
                                                dry
 
                                    
                                
                                                How 
                                                fragrant 
                                                the 
                                                rose 
                                                but 
                                                it's 
                                                dying
 
                                    
                                
                                                How 
                                                gentle 
                                                the 
                                                breeze 
                                                but 
                                                it 
                                                sighs
 
                                    
                                
                                                What 
                                                good 
                                                is 
                                                in 
                                                youth 
                                                when 
                                                it's 
                                                aging
 
                                    
                                
                                                What 
                                                joy 
                                                is 
                                                in 
                                                eyes 
                                                that 
                                                can't 
                                                see
 
                                    
                                
                                                When 
                                                there's 
                                                sorrow 
                                                in 
                                                sunshine 
                                                and 
                                                flowers
 
                                    
                                
                                                And 
                                                only 
                                                our 
                                                rivers 
                                                run 
                                                free
 
                                    
                                Внимание! Не стесняйтесь оставлять отзывы.
                 
             
                                                         
                                                         
                                                         
                                                        