I'm humble, alone An old cutter of stone The maker, the shaper The smith of your home No magician am I For once I did thrive But now I can barely survive
My love went away By boat and by train To somewhere, find someone With prosperous trade In the woods of Old Penn There's work to be done Build mansions for the landworkers' sons
Where they threw away the knife for the gun The brick for the feather They cut a friend's throat Then they run They're fighting the rise of the sun They left me poor and alone and one
So years did pass by How I did survive With faith that my friends Would come back to my side But I gathered a lot The craft wasn't forgotten We stand and our fruits won't go rotten
We didn't throw away the knife for the gun The brick for the feather Didn't cut a friend's throat And then run They're fighting the rise of the sun They left me poor and alone and one
So one day back they came Brought little but shame Their children in arms And their bodies in pain They shivered in the cold I saw from my stone home And they knocked 'til tears rained on the snow
They cried, "Worker of stone that we left long ago, We're sorry we migrated to join the rows. But now we've returned Yes now we've come home There's no place that we'd rather go, no."
Why humble my tone? An old cutter of stone The maker, the shaper The smith of your home A magician am I For I did survive Cause I never became civilized I didn't throw away the knife for the gun The brick for the feather Didn't cut a friend's throat and then run They're fighting the rise of the sun They came back poor and alone and oneTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
