Nina Simone Lass Of The Low Country текст песни, слова песни Lass Of The Low Country Nina Simone
Nina Simone - Lass Of The Low Country
Oh she was a lass from the low country
And he was a lord of high degree
But she loved him oh so tenderly
Oh sorrow sing sorrow
Now she sleeps in the valley where the wild flowers nod
No-one knows how she loved him but herself and God
One day when the snow was on the mead
She passed him by on a milk white steed
And she spoke to him low nobody paid no need
Oh sorrow sing sorrow
Now she sleeps in the valley where the wild flowers nod
No-one knows how she loved him but herself and God
Now if you be a lass from the low country
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