Paroles de la chanson Danny And My Ponies par The Who
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Paroles de la chanson Danny And My Ponies par The Who
Danny laid back and surveyed the view
A king on his bench, he was cold, he was blue
I asked for permission to give him a note
He nodded, not movin', just scratched at his throat
Always smiled slightly, seemed so bemused
Like he was the one, who was glad to be used
I had a sense he was playin' a part
But I had to help, for he tore at my heart
He would walk, his feet wrapped in rags
He wandered the neighborhood, carrying his bags
The pride in his eyes would so clearly flash
Like I was the one who needed the cash
A king on his bench, he was cold, he was blue
I asked for permission to give him a note
He nodded, not movin', just scratched at his throat
Always smiled slightly, seemed so bemused
Like he was the one, who was glad to be used
I had a sense he was playin' a part
But I had to help, for he tore at my heart
He would walk, his feet wrapped in rags
He wandered the neighborhood, carrying his bags
The pride in his eyes would so clearly flash
Like I was the one who needed the cash
The tramps in our England, have always to walk
From Philip to Dorchester, fifteen miles strong
The tramps in our country have no where's to hug
Home hysterics give comfort, there's no time to talk
Danny would lay, he'd never speak
Here was a man who had attained his peak
No fables to tell, and nothing held back
This was a man who had led a strong path
Old soldier, perhaps, or a worn, old jailbird
Who'd never a hand clean and never a word
For two hundred down, my project had fled
Danny was gone, or may well have been dead
He walked slowly, no hurryin' to death
Took in turn his view, with his very last breath
From Philip to Dorchester, fifteen miles strong
The tramps in our country have no where's to hug
Home hysterics give comfort, there's no time to talk
Danny would lay, he'd never speak
Here was a man who had attained his peak
No fables to tell, and nothing held back
This was a man who had led a strong path
Old soldier, perhaps, or a worn, old jailbird
Who'd never a hand clean and never a word
For two hundred down, my project had fled
Danny was gone, or may well have been dead
He walked slowly, no hurryin' to death
Took in turn his view, with his very last breath
The river, the mist and the slightly grey sky
Danny was waiting, patient to die
The tramps in our England, have always to walk
From Philip to Dorchester, fifteen miles strong
The tramps in our country have no where's to hug
Home hysterics give comfort, there's no time to talk
Danny laid back, looked down and the plain
The king on his bench with magnificent mane
I asked his permission to give him a note
He nodded, not movin', just scratched at his throat
It's dangerous to faction as those who live rough
Danny was a giant, solid and tough
He allowed me to gift him and scribble this song
Danny was waiting, patient to die
The tramps in our England, have always to walk
From Philip to Dorchester, fifteen miles strong
The tramps in our country have no where's to hug
Home hysterics give comfort, there's no time to talk
Danny laid back, looked down and the plain
The king on his bench with magnificent mane
I asked his permission to give him a note
He nodded, not movin', just scratched at his throat
It's dangerous to faction as those who live rough
Danny was a giant, solid and tough
He allowed me to gift him and scribble this song
Without bein' draconian, he lived just as long
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