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Sting - Cushie Butterfield

на свой мобильный!
Отправь SMS с текстом 55788-118-1420 на номер 5537.

Предложение действительно для Российских операторов.

I`m a broken-hearted keelman
and I`m o`er head in love
With a young lass from Gyetsid
And I call `er my dove

Her name`s Cushie Butterfield
And she sells yellow clay
And `er cousins a muckman
And they call him Tom Gray

CHORUS
She`s a big lass
She`s a bonny lass
And she likes her beer
And I call her Cushie Butterfield
And I wish she was here

Her eyes is like two holes
In a blanket burnt through
And her breath in the mornin`
Would scare a young coo

She wears big galoshes
And her stockings once was white
And her bed gown it`s lilac
And her hat`s never straight

CHORUS

Cushie Butterfield

Aa`s a broken hairted keel man and Aa`s ower heed in luv
Wiv a young lass in Gyetsid an Aa caal hor me duv
Hor nyem`s Cushie Butterfield and she sells Yalla clay
And her cousin is a muckman and they caall im Tom Gray.

Chorus- She`s a big lass an` a bonnie lass an` she likes hor beer
An they caall hor Cushie Butterfield an` aa wish she war heor

Her eyes are like two holes in a blanket bornt throo,
An` her brows in a mornin wad spyen a young coo;
An` when aw heer her shootin "will ye buy ony clay,"
Like a candy man`s trumpet, it steels ma young hart away.

Ye`ll oft see hor doon at Sangit when the fresh harrin cims in,
She`s like a bagfull o`saadust tied roond wiv a string;
She weers big galoshes tee, an` hor stockins once was white,
An` hor bedgoon it`s laelock, but hor hat`s nivver strite.

Chorus

Whan Aa axed hor te marry us, she started te laff;
"Noo, nyen o`yor munkey tricks, for Aa like nee such chaff"
Then she started a` blubblin` an` roared like a bull,
An` the cheps on the Keel ses As`s nowt but a fyeul.

Chorus

She sez "The chep that gets me`ll heh to work ivry day,
An when he cums hyem at neets hell heh te gan an` seek clay;
An` when he`s away seekin`t aal myek balls an` sing`
Weel may the keel row that my laddies in !"

Chorus

Noo, aw heer she hes anuther chep, an` he hews at Shipcote`
If aw thowt she wad deceive me, ah`d sure cut me throat;
Aal doon the river sailin, ansing "Aam afloat,"
Biddin addo te Cushy Butterfield an the chep at Shipcote.

Chorus

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