C'est l'histoire d'un blogueur cyclotouriste qui découvre le néant qu'est la ville de Miramichi.
Par une intervention des saints Esprits, il découvre, par la bande, les Pogues.
Gloire à Miramichi!
Cheers, Gaétan.
One summer evening drunk to hell
I stood there nearly lifeless
An old man in the corner sang
Where the water lilies grow
And on the jukebox Johnny sang
About a thing called love
And it's how are you kid and what's your name
And how would you bloody know?
In blood and death 'neath a screaming sky
I lay down on the ground
And the arms and legs of other men
Were scattered all around
Some cursed, some prayed, some prayed then cursed
Then prayed and bled some more
And the only thing that I could see
Was a pair of brown eyes that was looking at me
But when we got back, labeled parts one to three
There was no pair of brown eyes waiting for me
And a rovin' a rovin' a rovin' I'll go
For a pair of brown eyes
I looked at him he looked at me
All I could do was hate him
While Ray and Philomena sang
Of my elusive dream
I saw the streams, the rolling hills
Where his brown eyes were waiting
And I thought about a pair of brown eyes
That waited once for me
So drunk to hell I left the place
Sometimes crawling sometimes walking
A hungry sound came across the breeze
So I gave the walls a talking
And I heard the sounds of long ago
From the old canal
And the birds were whistling in the trees
Where the wind was gently laughing
And a rovin' a rovin' a rovin' I'll go
For a pair of brown eyes
5 commentaires:
Top O' the morning to ya, old pal.
Ah, ah, ah. Y est presque 18h, je me fais à souper.
:0)
Héhé!
Sacrament cé marqué jeudi en haut du billet pis je commente seulement à matin. Sorry. Sans sun in an empty room j'aurai vu ta plogue encore plus tard.
Bref j'ai suivi ton conseil et me suis tapé quelques pogues sur le tube. S'ti d'bon son festif. J'tape encore du pied.
Ben voyons donc, y a pas de trouble!
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