When she had twenty years she turned to her mother Saying Mother, I know that you'll grieve But I've given my soul to St John the gambler Tomorrow comes time leave For the hills cannot hold back my sorrow forever And dead men lay deep 'round the door The only salvation thats mine for the asking So mother, think on me no more
Winter held high round the mountains breast And the cold of a thousand snows Lay heaped upon the forests leaf But she dressed in calico For a gambler likes his women fancy Fancy she would be And the fire of her longing would keep way the cold And her dress was a sight to see
But the road was long beneath the feet She followed her frozen breath In search of a certain St John the gambler Stumbling to her death She heard his laughter right down from the mountains And danced with her mothers tears To a funeral drawn a calico 'neath the cross of twenty years
To a funeral drawn a calico 'neath the cross of twenty yearsTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
