prati con vista
Il verde delle alture di Vado Ligure, mia seconda patria, mi ha ispirato questo link musicale:
TOM JONES - Green Green Grass Of Home
Molto toccante questa versione di Johnny Cash LIVE At Folsom Prison
La canzone infatti parla di un sogno di un carcerato, per chi non conoscesse il testo:
The old home town looks the same,
As I step down from the train,
And there to meet me is my mama and my papa.
Down the road I look, and there comes Mary,
Hair of gold and lips like cherries.
It's good to touch the green, green grass of home.
The old house is still standing,
Though the paint is cracked and dry,
And there's the old oak tree that I used to play on.
Down the lane I walk with my sweet Mary,
Hair of gold and lips like cherries.
It's good to touch the green, green grass of home.
Yes, they'll all come to see me,
Arms reaching, smiling sweetly.
It's good to touch the green, green grass of home.
Then I awake and look around me,
At the four gray walls that surround me,
And I realize that I was only dreaming.
For there's a guard, and there's a sad old padre,
Arm in arm, we'll walk at daybreak.
Again, I'll touch the green, green grass of home.
Yes, they'll all come to see me
In the shade of the old oak tree,
As they lay me 'neath the green, green grass of home.
-------------------------
Do not use any of my images on websites, blogs or other media without my explicit written permission.
All rights reserved - Copyright © fotomie2009 - Nora Caracci
-------------------------
Sorry, to me is very difficult to visit people that always only leave a fav without commenting...
Do not use any of my images on websites, blogs or other media without my explicit written permission.
All rights reserved - Copyright © fotomie2009 - Nora Caracci
prati con vista
Il verde delle alture di Vado Ligure, mia seconda patria, mi ha ispirato questo link musicale:
TOM JONES - Green Green Grass Of Home
Molto toccante questa versione di Johnny Cash LIVE At Folsom Prison
La canzone infatti parla di un sogno di un carcerato, per chi non conoscesse il testo:
The old home town looks the same,
As I step down from the train,
And there to meet me is my mama and my papa.
Down the road I look, and there comes Mary,
Hair of gold and lips like cherries.
It's good to touch the green, green grass of home.
The old house is still standing,
Though the paint is cracked and dry,
And there's the old oak tree that I used to play on.
Down the lane I walk with my sweet Mary,
Hair of gold and lips like cherries.
It's good to touch the green, green grass of home.
Yes, they'll all come to see me,
Arms reaching, smiling sweetly.
It's good to touch the green, green grass of home.
Then I awake and look around me,
At the four gray walls that surround me,
And I realize that I was only dreaming.
For there's a guard, and there's a sad old padre,
Arm in arm, we'll walk at daybreak.
Again, I'll touch the green, green grass of home.
Yes, they'll all come to see me
In the shade of the old oak tree,
As they lay me 'neath the green, green grass of home.
-------------------------
Do not use any of my images on websites, blogs or other media without my explicit written permission.
All rights reserved - Copyright © fotomie2009 - Nora Caracci
-------------------------
Sorry, to me is very difficult to visit people that always only leave a fav without commenting...
Do not use any of my images on websites, blogs or other media without my explicit written permission.
All rights reserved - Copyright © fotomie2009 - Nora Caracci