Oh, my Donald, he works on the sea Where the waves, they blow proud and free He splices the ropes and trims the sails Then southward he rolls to the home of the whale
And he ne'er thinks o' me left behind Nor the torments that rage in my mind He's mine for only half part of the year Then I'm left all alone with not but a tear
Oh, my Donald, he works on the sea Where the waves, they blow proud and free He splices the ropes and trimms the sails Then southward he rolls to the home of the whale
~~~♫♫♫~~~
Ye ladies that smell of wild rose Think ye for your perfume to where a man goes Think ye o' the wives and the babies that yearn For a man ne'er returning from hunting the spermTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
