| [00:00.000] |
作曲 : Derek Warfield |
| [00:00.118] |
Six months in front of Richmond's walls, we fettered and we fumed |
| [00:03.913] |
And vainly in our grevious growls the surly cannon boomed |
| [00:07.846] |
We traced no paths of glory through the slimy, oozing swamp |
| [00:11.433] |
But misery and discontent were monarchs of our camp |
| [00:15.476] |
There was snarling and complaining all along the Union line |
| [00:19.394] |
And our brigade was loudest in the universal whine |
| [00:23.172] |
But the surliest and the churliest, the sourest of the train |
| [00:26.900] |
Was a cross and crusty rude and rusty Lanky Crank from Maine |
| [00:32.096] |
Death lurked in half a dozen shapes among the vapors foul |
| [00:35.789] |
The grumbling choir each morning had the same familiar howl |
| [00:39.797] |
To fill the vacant places, new arrivals were impressed |
| [00:43.343] |
Whose tempers in a week or so grew viler than the rest |
| [00:47.442] |
One day with such a batch there came a boy with sunny hair |
| [00:51.224] |
Who's laugh it took the breath away from every veteran there |
| [00:55.201] |
Who said to us in accents like a streamlets rippling flow |
| [00:59.142] |
"I'm very glad to meet you, Tom O'Mally from Mayo!" |
| [01:03.998] |
How the youngster danced and sang and laughed his cheerful way |
| [01:07.819] |
To hearts sealed up with selfishness from many a gloomy day |
| [01:11.550] |
He gave us song and story and a t'ousand merry wiles |
| [01:15.278] |
And routed regiments of blues with fusillades of smiles |
| [01:19.424] |
The Lanky Crank fought solemnly with dismal brow at first |
| [01:23.159] |
Fought like a northern thunder cloud while inwardly he cursed |
| [01:27.029] |
But his wintery soul grew warmer in the genial Irish glow |
| [01:30.952] |
For the frost of Maine is melted by the sunshine from Mayo |
| [01:35.859] |
Six months in front of Richmond's walls, we fettered and we fumed |
| [01:39.544] |
And vainly in our grevious growls the surly cannon boomed |
| [01:43.554] |
We traced no paths of glory through the slimy, oozing swamp |
| [01:47.103] |
But misery and discontent were monarchs of our camp |
| [01:51.252] |
There was snarling and complaining all along the Union line |
| [01:54.984] |
And our brigade was loudest in the universal whine |
| [01:58.999] |
But the surliest and churliest, the sourest of the train |
| [02:02.584] |
Was a cross and crusty, rude and rusty Lanky Crank from Maine |
| [02:07.620] |
And when on quiet evenings, from our camp arose |
| [02:11.544] |
The sound of mirth and merriment, that puzzled lurking foes |
| [02:15.376] |
When 'The Wind that Shakes the Barley' shook the leafless southern pines |
| [02:19.054] |
And the 'Rocky Road to Dublin' seen then winding through our lines |
| [02:23.065] |
A pair of feet went treading through the dance's tangled maze |
| [02:26.942] |
With a firm, determined step aquired in lumber hauling days |
| [02:30.809] |
'Who Fears to Speak of Ninety-Eight' was sometimes the refrain |
| [02:34.632] |
And we'll all join in the chorus said the Lanky Crank from Maine |
| [02:39.593] |
Our corps is but the corporal's guard beneath Virginia clay |
| [02:43.423] |
Our heroes wait the bugle blast on god's reviewing day |
| [02:47.256] |
But the twins, as once we called them, the Celt and Yank remain |
| [02:51.035] |
Though one's at home in Connacht, and the other's back in Maine |
| [02:54.930] |
Outside the Mayo cabin green, the starry flags proclaim |
| [02:58.853] |
That Ireland's in the Union now, in everything but name |
| [03:02.715] |
While in the state of Maine, a grim veteran wants to know |
| [03:06.582] |
"How soon will Ireland need recruits to battle for Mayo?" |
| [03:10.496] |
Six months in front of Richmond's walls, we fettered and we fumed |
| [03:14.367] |
And vainly in our grevious growls the surly cannon boomed |
| [03:18.228] |
We traced no paths of glory through the slimy, oozing swamp |
| [03:21.907] |
But misery and discontent were monarchs of our camp |
| [03:25.959] |
There was snarling and complaining all along the Union line |
| [03:29.833] |
And our brigade was loudest in the universal whine |
| [03:33.692] |
But the surliest and churliest, the sourest of the train |
| [03:37.417] |
Was a cross and crusty, rude and rusty Lanky Crank from Maine |
