North Country Blues (Bob Dylan)

		
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Come and gather round friends and I'll tell you a tale  
 
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Of when the red iron ore pits run a-plenty  
 
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But the cardboard filled windows and old men on the benches  
 
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Tell ya now that the whole town is empty  
 
 
In the north end of town my own children are grown  
But I was raised on the other  
In the wee hours of youth my mother took sick  
And I was brought up by my brother  
 
The iron ore poured as the years passed the door  
The drag lines and shovels, they was hummin'  
'Til one day my brother failed to come home  
The same as my father before him  
 
With a long winters wait from the window I watched  
My friends, they couldn't have been kinder  
And my school it was cut as I quit in the spring  
To marry John Thomas, a miner  
 
Oh the years passed again and the giving was good  
With a lunch bucket filled every season  
But with three babies born, the work was cut down  
To half a day's shift with no reason  
 
An' the shaft was soon shut and my work was cut  
And the fire in the air, it felt frozen  
'Til a man come to speak and he said in one week  
That number eleven was closing  
 
They complain in the east they payin' to high  
They say that your ore ain't worth diggin'  
That it's much cheaper down in the South American towns  
Where the miners work almost for nothin'  
 
So the minin' gates locked and the red iron rotted  
And the room smelled heavy from drinkin'  
When the sad silent song made the hour twice as long  
As I waited for the sun to go sinking  
 
I lived by the window as he talked to himself  
The silence of tongues, it was building  
'Til one morning's wake, the bed it was bare  
And I's left alone with three children  
 
The summer is gone, the ground's turning cold  
The stores one by one they are folding  
My children will go as soon as they grow  
For there ain't nothin' here now to hold them  
 
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Видео для песни "North Country Blues":