Слова:
Two Gallants What The Toll Tells

the summer day make a white man lazy Well, all I've ever known is poor Owe my skin to the country store Throw my walls, my roof, my door But he tells

city below From this bed of mine Where I eat sweet jelly rolls Think I'll put on my face I'd like to fix me a drink 'Cause somewhere someone knows just what

Gather ?round you wounded people; shadows fall upon the steeple. Soon shall come the closing of, the closing of the gates. For there is word of plague

see them falling. Let's all pray for rain, Let's all pray for rain. And all your children are reared by panic and fear. But what when all your fields

death prefers spoons Why wouldn?t you wait one last laugh at fate Forever?s too soon But across the field death bell knells Listen close hear the toll tell To run and tell