Out in the wood Where the children play The children play The children play Out in the wood Where the children play The cock crows every morning
All of the boys In their skeleton suits Had gathered round A mound of roots Muddy the cross As black as their boots Planted and bloodied and warning
Pale little bonnets They tried to peek They tried to peek They tried to peek Pale little bonnets They tried to peek The cock crows every morning
Tell us, o brothers What does not sleep But hides under The cross's keep? Small is the grave and none too deep Who are we, brothers, here mourning?
Where, o where is quiet Johnny? Quiet Johnny can't be saved Where, o where is quiet Johnny? Quiet Johnny, quiet grave
Each of the boys Made his hand a spade His hand a spade His hand a spade Each of the boys Made his hand a spade The cock crows every morning
They fell in a heap To claw the mud That dyed their knees And sleeves in rud Shovelled until The ground bore blood With all the blowflies swarming
Where, o where is quiet Johnny? Quiet Johnny can't be saved Where, o where is quiet Johnny? Quiet Johnny, quiet grave
Where, o where is quiet Johnny? Quiet Johnny can't be saved Where, o where is quiet Johnny? Quiet Johnny, quiet grave
Poked at the grave 'Til it bared its bones It bared it's bones It bared it's bones Poked at the grave 'Til it bared its bones The cock crows every morning
Finches and meadowlark Fowl and wren With twisted beaks And eyes of tin Feathers as red As an Indian's skin Savage and painted and warring
Where, o where is quiet Johnny? Quiet Johnny can't be saved Where, o where is quiet Johnny? Quiet Johnny, quiet graveTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
