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作曲 : Joan Baez |
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作词 : Baez |
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The lady's adrift in a foreign land |
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Singing on issues both humble and grand A |
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decade flew past her and there on the page |
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She read that the prince had returned to the stage |
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Hovering near treacherous waters |
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A friend saw her drifting and caught her |
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Unguarded fantasies flying too far |
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Memories tumbling like sweets from a jar And take me down to the harbor now Grapes of the summer are low on the bough |
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Ghosts of my history will follow me there |
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And the winds of the old days will blow through my hair |
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Breath on an undying ember It doesn't take much to remember |
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Those eloquent songs from the good old days |
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That set us to marching with banners ablaze |
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But reporters,there's no sense in prying |
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Our blue-eyed son's been denying |
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The truths that are wrapped in a mystery |
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The sixties are over so set him free |
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And take me down to the harbor now |
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Grapes of the summer are low on the bough |
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Ghosts of my history will follow me there |
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And the winds of the old days will blow through my hair |
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Why do I sit the autumnal judge |
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Years of self-righteousness will not budge |
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Singer or savior,it was his to choose |
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Which of us knows what was his to lose |
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Because idols are best when they're made of stone |
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A savior's a nuisance to live with at home |
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Stars often fall,heroes go unsung |
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And martyrs most certainly die too young |
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So thank you for writing the best songs |
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Thank you for righting a few wrongs |
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You're a savage gift on a wayward bus |
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But you stepped down and you sang to us |
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And get you down to the harbor now |
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Most of the sour grapes are gone from the bough |
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Ghosts of Johanna will visit you there |
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And the winds of the old days will blow through your hair |
