Contactez-nous

• Artiste: Meisce
• Titre: The Death of Michael Flatley
Assurez-vous que les corrections sont tout à fait exactes
S'il vous plaît, les mettez en évidence en quelque sorte!
Vous pouvez, par exemple, écrire
INCORRECT: avant la mauvaise ligne
CORRECT: avant la correspondant ligne correcte
Autrement, nous ne pouvons les corriger pas! Merci pour votre aide.
The day that Michael Flatley waltzed into our village square The skies turned black and grey Teeth like razors, eyes of gold, a kerchief 'round his hair The women sighed and swayed Co-opting a thousand years of culture and heritage, This so-called lord of dance But this bastard's reign must surely end with blood and carnage, We'll rid him from this land We'll hang him from the highest tree And break both of his fucking knees! Drag the bastard through the rain And kick him in the face again! For ten long years he profited from our sweat and tears And drank the alehouse dry He forced himself upon a girl against her bloody will Then left her there to die So grab your pitchforks, feathers and tar, he's drinking at McCaffey's bar, Be sure it will be his last For without hands a man can't steal, with gouged-out eyes he can't conceal The lies behind the mask We'll hang him from the highest tree And break both of his fucking knees! Drag the bastard through the rain And kick him in the face again! We'll hang him from the highest tree And break both of his fucking knees! Drag the bastard through the rain And kick him in the face again!