Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song The Patriot's Dream, artist - Gordon Lightfoot. Album song Don Quixote, in the genre
Date of issue: 22.05.2011
Record label: Warner
Song language: English
The Patriot's Dream |
The songs of the wars are as old as the hills |
They cling like the rust on the cold steel that kills |
They tell of the boys who went down to the tracks |
In a patriotic manner with the cold steel on their backs |
The patriot’s dream is as old as the sky |
It lives in the lust of a cold callous lie |
Let’s drink to the men who got caught by the chill |
Of the patriotic fever and the cold steel that kills |
The train pulled away on that glorious night |
The drummer got drunk and the bugler got tight |
While the boys in the back sang a song of good cheer |
While riding off to glory in the spring of their years |
The patriot’s dream still lives on today |
It makes mothers weep and it makes lovers pray |
Let’s drink to the men who got caught by the chill |
Of the patriotic fever and the cold steel that kills |
Well there was a sad, sad lady, weeping all night long |
She received a sad, sad message from a voice on the telephone |
Her children were all sleeping as she waited out the dawn |
How could she tell those children that their father was shot down |
So she took them to her side that day and she told them one by one |
Your father was a good man ten thousand miles from home |
He tried to do his duty and it took him straight to hell |
He might be in some prison, I hope he’s treated well |
Well there was a young girl watching in the early afternoon |
When she heard the name of someone who said he’d be home soon |
And she wondered how they got him, but the papers did not tell |
There would be no sweet reunion, there would be no wedding bells |
So she took herself into her room and she turned the bed sheets down |
And she cried into the silken folds of her new wedding gown |
He tried to do his duty and it took him straight to hell |
He might be in some prison, I hope he’s treated well |
Well there was an old man sitting in his mansion on the hill |
And he thought of his good fortune and the time he’d yet o kill |
Well he called to his wife one day, «Come sit with me awhile» |
Then turning toward the sunset, he smiled a wicked smile |
«Well I’d like to say I’m sorry for the sinful deeds I’ve done |
But let me first remind you, I’m a patriotic son» |
They tried to do their duty and it took 'em straight to hell |
They might be in some prison, I hope they’re treated well |
The songs of the wars are as old as the hills |
They cling like the rust on the cold steel that kills |
They tell of the boys who went down to the tracks |
In a patriotic manner with the cold steel on their backs |
The train pulled away on that glorious night |
The drummer got drunk and the bugler got tight |
While the boys in the back sang a song of good cheer |
While riding off to glory in the spring of their years |
The patriot’s dream still lives on today |
It makes mothers weep and it makes lovers pray |
Let’s drink to the men who got caught by the chill |
Of the patriotic fever and the cold steel that kills |