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He was just a blue-eyed Boston boy, His voice was low with pain. "I'll do your bidding, comrade mine, If I ride back again. But if you ride back and I am left, You'll do as much for me, Mother, you know, must hear the news, So write to her tenderly.
"She's waiting at home like a patient saint, Her fond face pale with woe. Her heart will be broken when I am gone, I'll see her soon, I know." Just then the order came to charge, For an instance hand touched hand. They said, "Aye," and away they rode, That brave and devoted band.
Straight was the track to the top of the hill, The rebels they shot and shelled, Plowed furrows of death through the toiling ranks, And guarded them as they fell. There soon came a horrible dying yell From heights that they could not gain, And those whom doom and death had spared Rode slowly back again.
But among the dead that were left on the hill Was the boy with the curly hair. The tall dark man who rode by his side Lay dead beside him there. There's no one to write to the blue-eyed girl The words that her lover had said. Momma, you know, awaits the news, And she'll only know he's dead.
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Fragment na dzis:
Liroy : Moja autobiografia
I
Minęło 27 lat od kiedy przyszedłem na świat
71 rocznik - Kielce
moje miasto, moja mała ojczyzna
zajebista
to jest oczywista sprawa
mój dom to pocieszki a pocieszki to zabawa
stary taka właśnie klima
czy lato czy zima, -
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deszcz czy słońce
zawsze tam było na maxi bez końca
od małego musiałem stawiać życiu czoła
podwórko, kumple to była dla mnie szkoła
stary
imprezy, kanciapy, godziny policyjne, wojny osiedlowe
niewinne dzieciństwo - stary zapo-
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mnij
nie jedna osoba jeszcze nie raz to wspomni
jak to było kiedy osiedle się bawiło
wspomnimy nie raz jak to wtedy stary było
II
Od dzieciństwa miałem tylko same problemy
ciągłe kłopoty ze szkołą
ojcem - bez ści....
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