Direktlänk till inlägg 21 januari 2008
Bloggvän Anders tipsade om en av sina favoriter
på sin blogg: Richard Thompson.
Och visst sjunger och spelar han underbart!
Här kan du lyssna till Richard Thompson när han berättar om hur han älskar "sad songs" och sedan höra honom i en mycket vacker och sorglig låt.
Texten kommer här:
Beeswing
Written by Richard Thompson
I was nineteen when I came to town, they called it the Summer of Love
They were burning babies, burning flags. The hawks against the doves
I took a job in the steamie down on Cauldrum Street
And I fell in love with a laundry girl who was working next to me
Oh she was a rare thing, fine as a bee's wing
So fine a breath of wind might blow her away
She was a lost child, oh she was running wild
She said "As long as there's no price on love, I'll stay.
And you wouldn't want me any other way"
Brown hair zig-zag around her face and a look of half-surprise
Like a fox caught in the headlights, there was animal in her eyes
She said "Young man, oh can't you see I'm not the factory kind
If you don't take me out of here I'll surely lose my mind"
Oh she was a rare thing, fine as a bee's wing
So fine that I might crush her where she lay
She was a lost child, she was running wild
She said "As long as there's no price on love, I'll stay.
And you wouldn't want me any other way"
We busked around the market towns and picked fruit down in Kent
And we could tinker lamps and pots and knives wherever we went
And I said that we might settle down, get a few acres dug
Fire burning in the hearth and babies on the rug
She said "Oh man, you foolish man, it surely sounds like hell.
You might be lord of half the world, you'll not own me as well"
Oh she was a rare thing, fine as a bee's wing
So fine a breath of wind might blow her away
She was a lost child, oh she was running wild
She said "As long as there's no price on love, I'll stay.
And you wouldn't want me any other way"
We was camping down the Gower one time, the work was pretty good
She thought we shouldn't wait for the frost and I thought maybe we should
We was drinking more in those days and tempers reached a pitch
And like a fool I let her run with the rambling itch
Oh the last I heard she's sleeping rough back on the Derby beat
White Horse in her hip pocket and a wolfhound at her feet
And they say she even married once, a man named Romany Brown
But even a gypsy caravan was too much settling down
And they say her flower is faded now, hard weather and hard booze
But maybe that's just the price you pay for the chains you refuse
Oh she was a rare thing, fine as a bee's wing
And I miss her more than ever words could say
If I could just taste all of her wildness now
If I could hold her in my arms today
Well I wouldn't want her any other way
Denna blogg är avslutad. Men den ligger kvar tills vidare .... Här är Fru Fundersams sparade inlägg: AllmäntDagens trudeluttDrömmar och bilderFilmer och teaterFrun lagar matHumorHälsa & ohälsa & livsstilKulturfrågor och religionKärlek och vänskapLivs...
Fru Fundersam har funnits på bloggen sedan den 9 oktober 2006. I nitton månader. Eller ett och ett halvt år, drygt. Det får räcka så. Nu har bloggen gjort sitt och den som skrivit om Fru Fundersams förfärliga och härliga inre liv och yttre strapat...
Frun funderar OFTA och MYCKET, över vägen ut från hemmet till det hägrande arbetslivet! Det kommer att bli en LÅNG väg ... Länge har Frun tittat på annonser om olika spännande lediga tjänster, och varje gång tänkt att: ...ja, men det...
Sommarvarmt har det varit i Fru Fundersamland, idag. Frun var ute i trädgården iklädd shorts och linne till sena kvällen. Och solen värmde gott när vinden mojnat. Då är det SKÖNT igen, att finnas till. ...
Frun har nyss hälsat på små alldeles underbara kattungar. Och HUR ska det gå att motstå att ta sig an en av dem? Det är nära nog otänkbart ... ...
Må | Ti | On | To | Fr | Lö | Sö | |||
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 |
6 | ||||
7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 |
12 |
13 | |||
14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 |
|||
21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | 25 | 26 |
27 | |||
28 | 29 | 30 | 31 | ||||||
|