In the morning we built the city In the afternoon walked through its streets Evening saw us leaving We wandered through our days as if they would never
sorrow The same thing I will want today I will want again tomorrow Well, I got a letter on a lonesome day It was from her ship a-sailin' Saying I don't
I wish I was back in Liverpool Liverpool town where I was born Where there ain't no trees, no scented breeze No fields of waving corn But there's lots
The last time I saw you was down at the Greeks There was whiskey on Sunday and tears on your cheeks You sang me a song as pure as the breeze On a road
Goodnight Irene, goodnight Goodnight Irene, goodnight Goodnight Irene, goodnight Irene I'll see you in my dreams Sometimes I live in the country Sometimes
I miss you wherever I go. Well, goodbye to old friends. I watched you go. From where I sit now, I still say hello. all the memories gone by, those that I couldn't
Eighteen forty-seven was the year it all began Deadly pains of hunger drove a million from the land They journeyed not for glory, their motive wasn't
With our nets and gear we're faring On the wild and wasteful ocean. Its there that we hunt and we earn our bread As we hunted for the shoals of herring
Translation: T. Duggins. Ballad Of Accounting.
Translation: T. Duggins. Boots Of Spanish Leather.
Translation: T. Duggins. Broad Majestic Shannon.
Translation: T. Duggins. Goodnight Irene.
Translation: T. Duggins. I Wish I Was Back In Liverpool.
Translation: T. Duggins. Late.
Translation: T. Duggins. Shoals Of Herring.
Translation: T. Duggins. (The City Of) Chicago.
