Contactez-nous

• Artiste: Ilsa
• Titre: Polly Vaughn
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.
Come​ ​all​ ​you​ ​young​ ​fellows That​ ​carry​ ​a​ ​gun I’ll​ ​have​ ​you​ ​come​ ​home By​ ​the​ ​light​ ​of​ ​the​ ​sun For​ ​Jimmy​ ​was​ ​hunting And​ ​hunting​ ​alone When​ ​he​ ​shot​ ​his​ ​true​ ​love In​ ​the​ ​room​ ​of​ ​a​ ​swan Polly​ ​went​ ​out​ ​in​ ​a​ ​shower​ ​of​ ​hail She​ ​crept​ ​to​ ​the​ ​bushes Herself​ ​to​ ​conceal With​ ​her​ ​apron​ ​pulled​ ​o'er​ ​her He​ ​took​ ​her​ ​for​ ​a​ ​swan He​ ​aimed,​ ​he​ ​fired And​ ​killed​ ​his​ ​Polly​ ​Vaughn Then​ ​home​ ​rushed​ ​young​ ​Jimmy His​ ​dog,​ ​and​ ​his​ ​gun Crying,​ ​"Uncle,​ ​dear​ ​Uncle Oh,​ ​what​ ​have​ ​I​ ​done? Oh,​ ​cursed​ ​be​ ​the​ ​gunsmith That​ ​made​ ​my​ ​old​ ​gun For​ ​I​ ​shot​ ​my​ ​true​ ​love In​ ​the​ ​room​ ​of​ ​a​ ​swan!" Then​ ​out​ ​rushed​ ​bold​ ​uncle His​ ​locks​ ​hanging​ ​grey Crying,​ ​"Jimmy​ ​dear​ ​Jimmy Don't​ ​you​ ​run​ ​away Don't​ ​leave​ ​the​ ​county Till​ ​your​ ​trials​ ​come​ ​on For​ ​they​ ​never​ ​would​ ​hang​ ​you For​ ​shooting​ ​a​ ​swan." The​ ​funeral​ ​of​ ​Polly,​ ​it​ ​was​ ​a​ ​brave​ ​sight Four​ ​and​ ​twenty​ ​young​ ​men All​ ​dressed​ ​in​ ​white They​ ​brought​ ​her​ ​to​ ​the​ ​graveyard Laid​ ​her​ ​in​ ​the​ ​grave All​ ​said,​ ​"Goodbye​ ​Polly!" And​ ​went​ ​weeping​ ​away In​ ​six​ ​weeks​ ​time The​ ​trial​ ​was​ ​on And​ ​Polly​ ​appeared In​ ​the​ ​room​ ​of​ ​a​ ​swan Crying,​ ​"Judge,​ ​oh​ ​Jury Let​ ​Jimmy​ ​go​ ​clear For​ ​he​ ​never​ ​should​ ​hang For​ ​shooting​ ​his​ ​dear! My​ ​apron​ ​was​ ​bound​ ​around​ ​me And​ ​he​ ​took​ ​me​ ​for​ ​a​ ​swan And​ ​my​ ​poor​ ​heart​ ​lay​ ​a'bleeding All​ ​on​ ​the​ ​wet,​ ​green​ ​ground