Stompin' Tom Connors все тексты (слова) песен, переводы, видео, клипы

Goodbye Jim & Jackie, goodbye John & May
We hate to see you leaving, bound for the USA
But if you don't believe your country should come before yourself
Ya can better serve your country, by living somewhere else

I know the times are changing, factories closing down
But if you stay and help us, we can turn these things around
But if you don't believe your country should come before yourself

Hey-Hi, Hey-Hi-Ho, the best man in Ottawa was Mufferaw Joe,
Mufferaw Joe

Big Joe Mufferaw paddled into Mattawa
All the way from Ottawa in just one day
Hey-Hey
On the river Ottawa the best man we ever saw
Was Big Joe Mufferaw the old folks say

Yes we are the Blue Berets
We're up and on our way
With another UN flag to be unfurelled
Till the factions are at bay and peace is on it's way
We'll display our Blue Berets around the world

Yes we are the Blue Berets
We're always proud to say

|When the ‘Big Wheel' strolls around man, do you dread it?|When the workplace gets you down boy, do you let it?|And do you think your boss, is just a jolly old Santa Clause|We'll there's a clause in Murphy's Law, says ‘Just forget it'.||CHORUS:|This old world is so unforgivin'|It's a wonder how a good man keeps on livin'|No matter what you try, you can work and laugh or cry,|But you won't fly them Broken Wings to heaven. (X2)||Do you bring your pay-cheque home or do you bank it?|Or does your wife hand up the phone because you drank it?|And does your old dog bite, when you sleep with him at night?|Or does he cuddle up real tight there in the blanket? - CHORUS||Does the phone call say, there's someone at the station?|And your mother-in-law is here for a long vacation?|And man, does she look mad; she's found out you've been bad,|And she's got no time for 'simple' conversation.|- CHORUS|

C-A-N-A-D-A
Tell me, what's a Douglas fir?
C-A-N-A-D-A
Bet you never heard a bobcat purr
C-A-N-A-D-A
Have you ever seen a lobster crawl?
In Canada we get to see them all

We'll see you down at the football game|See you in the crowd|And we're gonna cheer our team this year|Till there ain't no cheerin' as loud||And if someone down at the Football Game,|Says, 'Hey! Why do you scream'?!?||They're gonna realize, when we get the prize |We been Wakin' Up The Grey Cup Team|Wakin' up the Grey Cup Team||Now when its scrimmage time, at the two yard line,|We bulldoze into score.|Then the kicker kicks, and it's over the sticks|And its six, and one points more||And a two point sack on their Quarterback,|And a Field Goal just to be mean,||Our screams and shouts don't leave any doubt,|We been Wakin' up the Grey Cup team|Wakin' up the Grey Cup team||CHORUS:|With a 'First Down', 'Second Down',|And 'First Down' again|'Snap' it to the Quarter-back and flip it to the wind|Catch it on the '40 yard' n' never turn around|Then you rush it to the 'End'|And get another 'Touch Down'||Now, when the Football shoots from the punter's boot|Their 'Receiver' can be sure|If he don't duck, he's gonna get struck|Like a tank from the 'Second World War'||Then watch him fall down and 'Fumble' the ball|And make a big 'Turn-Over' scene|And the cheering fans will make him understand|We've been Wakin' Up The Grey Cup Team ||CHORUS|

Hello out there, were on the air
it's hockey night tonight!
The tension grows,
the whistle blows,
and the puck goes down the ice.
The golie jumps,
and and the players bump,
and the fans all go insane.

It's time to move along|Write another song|You made a schmuck|Of a damned good trucker|And done your daddy wrong||And as I roll along|Hear my truckin' song|You made your play|Now clear the way|It's time to move along||It's time to move along|Time to move along|There's another load|On down the road|And a new love just beyond||And as I roll along|Hear my truckin' song|I warned you twice|Now pay the price|It's time to move along||It's time to move along|You tried to steer me wrong|Open your eyes|And realize|Your truckin' daddy's gone||And as I roll along|Hear my truckin' song|I'm all through|With lovin' you|It's time to move along||It's time to move along|Time to move along|You tried to send|Me 'round the bend|But I'll keep drivin' on||And as I roll along|Hear my truckin' song|You had your ride|Now step aside|It's time to move along||It's time to move along|Let me say it strong|There's a place to cheat|On down the street|With another guy named John||And as I roll along|Hear my truckin' song|Your way to late|To play it straight|It's time to move along||It's time to move along|Time to move along|You made a schmuck|Of a damned good trucker|And now your daddy's gone||And as I roll along|Hear my truckin' song|You made your play|Now clear the way|It's time to move along||I warned you twice|Now pay the price|It's time to move along||I'm all through|With lovin' you|It's time to move along|

Here I walk in the Winnipeg rain
Tryin' to get a bus, tryin' to get train
Tryin' to get back to my field of grain
Away from Portage Street and Main
I blew my mind and my money in vain
And I blew my past on a fast Red River Jane

Red River Jane that's her name

Just a little bit west of Kapuskasing,|Reesor Crossing, that's the name.|Farmers hauled, from out of the bushland,|pulpwood for the mill-bound train.||Twenty farmers met that night,|to guard their pulp from a union strike,|unaware this night would see a reesor crossing tragedy, |the Reesor Crossing Tragedy.||'You'll never load that pile of lumber',|said the Union men, when they came.|Though they numbered about five hundred, |the twenty farmers took rifle aim.||'We've got to get our pulpwood out, |before the muskeg frost comes out'.|'And may God help us all to see, |no Reesor Crossing Tragedy'.||'You'll never touch this pile of lumber',|but they came, and tragically,|three men died, that february, |in the year of '63||Eight more wounded, some beat up|tires slashed on the lumber trucks.|A night of death, and destiny -|the Reesor Crossing Tragedy.||'You'll never touch this pile of lumber',|seven words that spelled out pain.|For the widows and their children, |and their men who died in vain.||How can anyone forget, |the bloodiest labour battle yet, |in all Canadian history?|The Reesor Crossing tragedy. ||Just a little bit west of Kapuskasing,|they erected a sculpture beside the tracks,|of the bushman and his family,|who live their lives behind the axe.||It reminds us in the North,|not to bring out tempers forth,|that there may never elsewhere be|no Reesor Crossing Tragedy.|

Goodbye Rubberhead, so long boob!
Go and blow your inner-tube!
I got a brand new sugar cube
So, Goodbye Rubberhead, so long boob!

I told my baby nice
Please don't flirt around
And don't give eyes to other guys

Stompin' Tom Connors - The Good Ol' Hockey Game

hello out there
we're on the air
it's hockey night tonight
tension goes
the whistle blows
and the puck goes down the ice

When the big moon shines in the Maritimes|On the old Atlantic shore|I'll be glad to be back to old Halifax and the girl that I adore!|When the big skies blue, I'll be coming to you|With a love for evermore,|Where the high tides roll, on the rocky shoals|Of the old Atlantic shore.||Where the fishing nets hang, and the bouy bells clang,|You marvel at the stevedores' might.|And the big empty ships, from the docks they slip|Away in the silence of night.|How I reminisce your goodbye kiss, standing in the shanty door.|I'm coming back home, never more to roam, from the old Atlantic shore.||When the big moon shines in the Maritimes|On the old Atlantic shore|I'll be glad to be back to old Halifax and the girl that I adore!|When the big skies blue, I'll be coming to you|With a love for evermore,|Where the high tides roll, on the rocky shoals|Of the old Atlantic shore.||It's a long ways down to Halifax town|Where the great white seagull flies|But the big blue sea, it's a-callin' to me,|'Come back to your big blue eyes.'|I can feel sea breezes comin' through the trees,|I can hear the ocean's roar.|I'll be home tonight, dear, to hold you tight,|On the old Atlantic Shore.||When the big moon shines in the Maritimes|On the old Atlantic shore|I'll be glad to be back to old Halifax and the girl that I adore!|When the big skies blue, I'll be coming to you|With a love for evermore,|Where the high tides roll, on the rocky shoals|Of the old Atlantic shore.||Where the high tides roll, on the rocky shoals|Of the old Atlantic shore.|

Hey Tom, You ever been to Tillsonburg?|Tillsonburg? My back still aches when I hear that word|While, a way down Southern Ontario|I never had a nickle or a dime to show|A fella beeped up in an automobile|He said 'You'll want to work in the Tobacco field's of||Tillsonburg (Tillsonburg) x2|My back still aches when I hear that word||He said I'll only give ya seven bucks a day|But if you're any good you'll get a raise in pay||Your beds already on the bunkhouse floor|If it gets a little chilly ya can close the door||Tillsonburg (Tillsonburg)|It was Tillsonburg (Tillsonburg)|My back still aches when I hear that word||I was feelin' in the morning anything but fine|The farmer said I'm gonna teach ya how to brame|He said ya gotta dawn a pair of oil skin pants|If ya want to work in the Tobacco plants of||Tillsonburg (Tillsonburg) x2|My back still aches when I hear that word||We landed in a field that was long and wide|With one ol' horse and five more guys|I asked them where to find the cigarette trees||When he said bend over I was ready to leave||Tillsonburg (Tillsonburg) x2|My back still aches when I hear that word||He said just to pick the bottom leaves|And don't start crawling on your hands and knees|Prime your load cause you'll get no pay|For standin' there pickin' at your nose all day 'round||Tillsonburg (Tillsonburg) x2|My back still aches when I hear that word||With a broken back bendin' over there|I was wet right through to the underwear|And it was stuck to my skin like glue|From the nicotine tar on the morning dew of||Tillsonburg (Tillsonburg) x2|My back still aches when I hear that word||Now the nearest river was two miles from|The place where they was waitin' for the boat to come|When I heard some talk of makin' the kill|I was down the highway and over the hill from||Tillsonburg (Tillsonburg) x2|My back still aches when I hear that word||Now there is one thing you can always bet|If I never smoke another cigarette|I might get taken in alot of deals|But I won't go workin' the tobacco fields of||Tillsonburg (Tillsonburg) x2|My back still aches when I hear that word||My back still aches when I hear that word(x4)||

Hello friends, This is Stompin' Tom Connors|And I'd like to dedicate this song to that old Alberta cowboy himself|Wilf Carter||(yodeling)||In the year 1904, Upon a cold December morn|In Port Hillford, Nova Scotia Wilf Carter he was born|Went to work for the local farmers, at a very tender age|Til' the Bush Camps of New Brunswick hired Wilf for a better pay|And Wilf began to yodeleyaee in the back woods of Amdee||(yodeling)||From the Maritimes to Boston now, the wheat fields of the West|The Plains of ol' Alberta they just seemed to suit him best|Punching cows and breaking horse was the life he loved to lead|And you'd always see Wilf Carter at the Calgary Stampede|And Wilf would always yodeleyaee on the streets of Calgary||(yodeling)||When he sang, he'd play the guitar, tellin' stories that were true|For the songs that he wrote, were always about people that he knew|And he took his compositions down to Montreal by train|Where he made his first recording, and was on his way to fame|And Wilf began to yodeleyaee on the radio CBC||(yodeling)||Just the plain and simple cowboy, with that old familar grin|To the USA, Wilf Carter was now Montana Slim|From the hungary hobo jungles, to the top recording star|And the people came by thousands, when he strummed that old guitar|And Wilf would always yodeleyaee in a voice so young and free||(yodeling)||Now the message of my story won't be hard to understand|And I think I speak for every hardcore country music fan|Though the modern record players have replaced the gramaphone|I still love to here Wilf Carter singing play the cowboy songs|And Wilf can still yodeleyaee any time he wants for me||(yodeling)||