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作词 : Donovan, Stowell |
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Oh the little white road climbs over the hill, |
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My feet they must follow, they cannot be still, |
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Must follow and follow though far it may roam, |
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Oh little white road, will you never come home? |
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Oh the hills they are patient and steadfast and wise, |
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They look o'er the valleys and up to the skies, |
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But the little white road scrambles up them and over, |
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Oh little white road, you are ever the rover. |
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I fain would go with you right down to the sea, |
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Where a ship with white sails would be waiting for me, |
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Go sailing and sailing to strange lands afar, |
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Where deserts and forests and lost cities are. |
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But when I grew weary of my gypsying ways, |
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I'd sail home again for to end all my days, |
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In the little grey cottage, beside the grey hill, |
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But you, little road, would be wandering still. |
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