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[ti:The Balled Of Frankie Lee And Judas Priest] |
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[ar:Bob Dylan] |
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[al:John Wesley Harding] |
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[tool:歌词滚动姬 (lrc-maker.github.io)] |
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作曲 : Bob Dylan |
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作词 : Bob Dylan |
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Well, Frankie Lee and Judas Priest, |
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They were the best of friends. |
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So when Frankie Lee needed money one day, |
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Judas quickly pulled out a roll of tens |
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And placed them on a footstool |
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Just above the plotted plain, |
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Sayin', "Take your pick, Frankie Boy," |
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My loss will be your gain." |
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Well, Frankie Lee, he sat right down |
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And put his fingers to his chin, |
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But with the cold eyes of Judas on him, |
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His head began to spin. |
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"Would ya please not stare at me like that," he said," |
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"It's just my foolish pride," |
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But sometimes a man must be alone |
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And this is no place to hide." |
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Well, Judas, he just winked and said, |
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"All right, I'll leave you here,“ |
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But you'd better hurry up and choose |
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Which of those bills you want, |
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Before they all disappear." |
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"I'm gonna start my pickin' right now,“ |
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Just tell me where you'll be." |
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Judas pointed down the road |
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And said, "Eternity! |
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"Eternity?" said Frankie Lee,“ |
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With a voice as cold as ice. |
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"That's right," said Judas Priest, "Eternity, |
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Though you might call it 'Paradise.' |
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"I don't call it anything," |
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Said Frankie Lee with a smile. |
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"All right," said Judas Priest,“ |
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"I'll see you after a while."“ |
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Well, Frankie Lee, he sat back down, |
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Feelin' low and mean, |
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When just then a passing stranger |
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Burst upon the scene, |
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Saying, "Are you Frankie Lee, the gambler,Whose father is deceased? |
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Well, if you are, |
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There's a fellow callin' you down the road |
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And they say his name is Priest." |
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"Oh, yes, he is my friend," |
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Said Frankie Lee in fright |
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"I do recall him very well,“ |
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In fact, he just left my sight." |
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"Yes, that's the one," said the stranger,“ |
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As quiet as a mouse, |
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"Well, my message is, he's down the road,“ |
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Stranded in a house." |
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Well, Frankie Lee, he panicked, |
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He dropped ev'rything and ran |
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Until he came up to the spot |
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Where Judas Priest did stand. |
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"What kind of house is this," he said,“ |
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"Where I have come to roam?"“ |
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"It's not a house," said Judas Priest,“ |
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"It's not a house . . . it's a home." |
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Well, Frankie Lee, he trembled, |
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He soon lost all control |
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Over ev'rything which he had made |
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While the mission bells did toll. |
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He just stood there staring |
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At that big house as bright as any sun, |
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With four and twenty windows |
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And a woman's face in ev'ry one. |
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Well, up the stairs ran Frankie Lee |
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With a soulful, bounding leap, |
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And, foaming at the mouth, |
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He began to make his midnight creep. |
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For sixteen nights and days he raved, |
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But on the seventeenth he burst |
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Into the arms of Judas Priest, |
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Which is where he died of thirst. |
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No one tried to say a thing |
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When they took him out in jest, |
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Except, of course, the little neighbor boy |
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Who carried him to rest. |
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And he just walked along, alone, |
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With his guilt so well concealed, |
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And muttered underneath his breath, |
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"Nothing is revealed."“ |
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Well, the moral of the story, |
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The moral of this song, |
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Is simply that one should never be |
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Where one does not belong. |
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So when you see your neighbor carryin' somethin', |
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Help him with his load, |
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And don't go mistaking Paradise |
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For that home across the road. |
