Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song MRS. McGrath , by - The Stanfields. Song from the album Death & Taxes, in the genre Фолк-рокRelease date: 17.09.2012
Record label: Groundswell
Song language: English
MRS. McGrath |
| Now, Mrs. McGrath, the sargent said |
| Would you like to make a soldier out of your son Ted? |
| With a scarlet coat and a big cocked hat |
| Mrs. McGrath, wouldn’t you like that? |
| Too-ri-aa fol-ded-dle-di-aa |
| Too-ri-oo-ri-oo-ri-aa |
| Too-ri-aa fol-ded-dle-di-aa |
| Too-ri-oo-ri-oo-ri-aa |
| Now, Mrs McGrath lived on the shore |
| And after seven years or more |
| She spied a ship come into the bay |
| With her son from far away |
| «O captain dear, where have ye been? |
| You been sailing the Mediterranean |
| Have you news of my son Ted |
| Is he living or is he dead?» |
| Too-ri-aa fol-ded-dle-di-aa |
| Too-ri-oo-ri-oo-ri-aa |
| Too-ri-aa fol-ded-dle-di-aa |
| Too-ri-oo-ri-oo-ri-aa |
| Then came Ted without any legs |
| And in their place two wooden pegs |
| She kissed him a dozen times or two |
| And said, «my God, Ted, is it you? |
| Now were ye drunk or were ye blind |
| When ye left your two fine legs behind? |
| Or was it walking upon the sea |
| That wore your two fine legs away?" |
| Too-ri-aa fol-ded-dle-di-aa |
| Too-ri-oo-ri-oo-ri-aa |
| Too-ri-aa fol-ded-dle-di-aa |
| Too-ri-oo-ri-oo-ri-aa |
| Too-ri-aa fol-ded-dle-di-aa |
| Too-ri-oo-ri-oo-ri-aa |
| Too-ri-aa fol-ded-dle-di-aa |
| Too-ri-oo-ri-oo-ri-aa |
| «Now I wasn’t drunk and I wasn’t blind |
| When I left my two fine legs behind |
| A cannonball on the fifth of May |
| Tore my two fine legs away» |
| «My, Teddy boy,» the widow cried |
| «Your two fine legs were yer mother’s pride |
| Stumps of a tree won’t do at all |
| Why didn’t ye run from the cannonball?» |
| Too-ri-aa fol-ded-dle-di-aa |
| Too-ri-oo-ri-oo-ri-aa |
| Too-ri-aa fol-ded-dle-di-aa |
| Too-ri-oo-ri-oo-ri-aa |
| Too-ri-aa fol-ded-dle-di-aa |
| Too-ri-oo-ri-oo-ri-aa |
| Too-ri-aa fol-ded-dle-di-aa |
| Too-ri-oo-ri-oo-ri-aa |
| «All foreign wars I do proclaim |
| Between Don John and the King of Spain |
| I’d rather have my son as he used to be |
| Than the King of France and his whole Navy» |
| Too-ri-aa fol-ded-dle-di-aa |
| Too-ri-oo-ri-oo-ri-aa |
| Too-ri-aa fol-ded-dle-di-aa |
| Too-ri-oo-ri-oo-ri-aa |
| Too-ri-aa fol-ded-dle-di-aa |
| Too-ri-oo-ri-oo-ri-aa |
| Too-ri-aa fol-ded-dle-di-aa |
| Too-ri-oo-ri-oo-ri-aa |
| Too-ri-aa fol-ded-dle-di-aa |
| Too-ri-oo-ri-oo-ri-aa |
| Too-ri-aa fol-ded-dle-di-aa |
| Too-ri-oo-ri-oo-ri-aa |
| Too-ri-aa fol-ded-dle-di-aa |
| Too-ri-oo-ri-oo-ri-aa |
| Too-ri-aa fol-ded-dle-di-aa |
| Too-ri-oo-ri-oo-ri-aa |