Текст песни No Roads Here (Corb Lund Band) с переводом

There are no roads here

There are no signposts

To guide a man

Through this dark land

There are no roads here

There is no history

No written law

To stay one’s hand

Well there’s a growed-over wagon trail that’s headed for the west

An' there’s a tipi ring at the purple springs, if your ponies need their rest

There’s a shepherd out in Vaxhaull in the coulees who may know

But the sheep shacks old an' leanin' and that was sixty years ago

There are no roads here

There are no signposts

To guide a man

Through this dark land

There are no roads here

There is no history

No written law

To stay one’s hand

Well I see handcarts pulled by desperate settlers bent under the yoke

Fleeing lives of certain serfdom for this new faith of which he spoke

Treking 'cross the desert with a few intrepid Danes

There’s times I still think I can feel the blood of Vikings in my veins

I hear 'strawberry roan' and there’s bison bones been bleached out in the sun

South of Raymond, whiskey trade, the antelope still run

Hidden family reasons at the edge of consciousness

Silhouettes of grazing cattle on that old Milk River ridge

There are no roads here

There are no signposts

To guide a man

Through this dark land

There are no roads here

There is no history

No written law

To stay one’s hand

There are no roads here

There are no signposts

To guide a man

Through this dark land

There are no roads here

There is no history

No written law

To stay one’s hand

No written law

To stay one’s hand

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