Из альбома: A Toast to Those Who Are Gone

C Am

Many's the hour I've lain by my window


and thought of the people who carried the burden



Who marched in the strange fields in search of an answers



And ended their journeys an unwilling hero





Here's a song to those who are gone with never a reason why



And a toast of the wine at the end of the line


And a toll of the bell for the next one to die



Back in the coal fields of old Harlan county

Some talked of the union, some talked of good wages

And they lined them up in the dark of the forests

And shot them down without asking no questions



Here's a song to those who are gone with never a reason why

And a toast of the wine to the end of the line

And a toll of the bell for the next one to die



And over the ocean, to the red Spanish soil

came the lincoln brigade with their dreams

But they fell in the fire of germany's bombing

And they fell 'cause no one would hear their sad warning



Here's a song to those who are gone with never a reason why

And a toast of the wine at the end of the line

And a toll of the bell for the next one to die



In old Alabama, in old Mississippi

Two states of the union so often found guilty

They came on the busses, they came on the marches

And they lay in the jails or they fell by the highway



Here's a song to those who are gone with never a reason why

And a toast of the wine at the end of the line

And a toll of the bell for the next one to die



The state it was texas, the town it was Dallas

In the flash of a rifle a life was soon over

And nobody thought of the past million murders

And the long list of irony(?) had found a new champion



Here's a song to those who are gone with never a reason why

And a toast of the wine at the end of the line

And a toll of the bell for the next one to die

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