Текст песни La Grande (Laura Gibson) с переводом

When the moon carves a trail down the pine-bearded hills

And a ghost-wind hollers to the early morn

And the starlings return to the old sugar mill

Stealing their corn from the grower’s field

Oh, I’ll be no more

When we’ve covered our hands in the bone-white clay

And we’ve shaken the dust from every boot and spur

We have counted our days in planks and rails

We have kept our spirits in the dancing halls

Oh, I’ll be no more

When a cold corner stage in the back of the room

Holds a house band carrying an orphan tune

I would swing, I would sway, I would pull my hips

To the sad chorus playing on the overheads

Oh, I’ll be no more

Oh, I’ll be no more

Still to this day

I can hear the whistle blow

I can smell the sage burn

I may be as old and stubborn as a pine

But I am just as wild as the young

When a ribbon is curved round the blue-shadowed hills

And the hot steel is humming down the Union Line

Whip-thin, hickory-black, tap-tapping

Our sad-faced chatter into rhythm and rhyme

Oh, I’ll be no more

Oh, I’ll be no more

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