Lirik Lagu Ballad Of The Harp Weaver - Johnny Cash
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TIPS PENCARIAN LIRIK FAVORIT ANDA
ANDA MENGETAHUI JUDUL DAN NAMA PENYANYI
- Ketikkan nama penyanyi dan judul lagu, berikan tanda kutip di judul lagu, misal: Yovie "Menjaga Hati";
- bila tidak berhasil, coba untuk mengilangkan tanda kutip, misal: Yovie Menjaga Hati; atau
- dapat juga dengan mengeklik menu A B C D.., lalu cari berdasarkan nama artis. Yovie dimulai dengan Y, klik Y. Lihat daftar lagu, dan dapatkan yang Anda cari.
ANDA TAK MENGETAHUI JUDUL LAGU, TAPI MENGETAHUI NAMA PENYANYI
- Ketik nama penyanyi, misal: YOVIE, akan muncul banyak halaman, telusuri dan pilih dari halaman-halaman tersebut; atau
- klik menu A B C D E ... berdasarkan nama artis Y, cari Yovie, dan cari lirik yang Anda cari.
ANDA TAK MENGETAHUI JUDUL LAGU, TAPI MENGETAHUI SYAIR
- Ketikkan penggalan syair yang Anda ketahui, misal:
Tanpamu tiada berarti
Tak mampu lagi berdiri
Cahaya kasihmu menuntunku
Kembali dalam dekapan tanganmu - Masukkan kata-kata penting. Misal: tiada berarti berdiri cahaya dekapan.
- Hindari kata-kata yang berkemungkinan memiliki ada dua versi atau lebih. Misal: tanpamu dapat ditulis tanpa mu.
TETAP TIDAK DAPAT MENEMUKAN LIRIK YANG ANDA CARI
- Pilih menu A B C D E ... berdasarkan nama artis atau judul lagu.
- Bila masih tidak dapat menemukan lirik yang Anda cari, mungkin kami bisa membantu Anda. Silakan menghubungi kami.
Son said my mother when I was knee highYou need of clothes to cover you and not a rag have IThere's nothing in the house to make a boy's britchesNor shears to cut a cloth with nor thread to take stitchesThere's nothing in the house but a leaf end of ryeAnd the harp with a with the woman's head nobody will by and she began to cryThat was in the early fall and when came the late fallSon she said the sight of you makes your mother's blood crawlLittle skinny shoulder blades stickin' through your clothesAnd where you get a jacket from God above knowsIt's lucky for me lad your daddy's in the groundAnd can't see the way I let his son go around and she made a queer soundThat was in the late fall when the winter cameI'd not a pair of bridges nor a shirt to my nameI couldn't go to school or out of doors to playAnd all the other little boys passed our waySon said my mother come climb into my lapAnd I'll chave your little knees while you take a napAnd oh but we were silly for half an hour or moreMe with my long legs draggin' on the floorI rocked rocked rocked to a mother goose rhymeOh but we were happy for half an hour's timeBut there was I a great boy and what would folks sayTo hear my mother singin' me to sleep all day in such a daft wayMen say the winter was bad that year fuel was scarce and food was dearA wind with a wolf's head howled about our doorAnd we burned up the chairs and sat upon the floorAll that was left us was a chair we couldn't breakAnd the harp with the woman's head nobody would take for song or pity sakeThe night before Christmas I cried with the coldI cried myself to sleep like a two year oldAnd in the deep night I felt my mother riseAnd stare down upon me with love in her eyesI saw my mother sitting on the one good chairA light falling on her face from I couldn't tell whereLooking nineteen and not a day olderAnd the harp with the woman's head leaned against her shoulderHer thin fingers moving in the thin tall stringsWere weave weave weaving wonderful thingsMany bright threads from where I couldn't seeWere running through the harp strings rapidlyAnd gold threads whistlin' through my mother's handsI saw the web grow and the pattern expandShe wove a child's jacket and when it was doneShe laid it on the floor and wove another oneShe wove a red cloak so regal to seeShe's made it for a king's son I said and not for me but I knew it was for meShe wove a pair of bridges and quicker than thatShe wove a pair of boots a little cocked hatShe wove a pair of mittens she wove a little blouseShe wove all night in the still cold houseShe sang as she worked and the harp strings spokeBut her voice never faltered and the thread never brokeBut when I awoke there sat my motherWith the harp against her shoulder lookin' nineteen and not a day olderA smile about her lips and a light about her headAnd her hands in the harp strings frozen deadAnd piled up beside her toppling to the skiesWere the clothes of a king's son just my size
