Would God I were the tender apple blossom
That floats and falls from off the twisted bough
To lie and faint within your silken bosom
Within your silken bosom as that does now.
Or would I were a little burnish'd apple
For you to pluck me, gliding by so cold,
While sun and shade your robe of lawn will dapple,
Your robe of lawn and your hair of spun gold.
「倫敦德里小調」的英文歌詞如下:
Londonderry Air
Would God I were the tender apple blossom
That floats and falls from off the twisted bough,
To lie and faint within your silken bosom,
Within your silken bosom as that does now!
Or would I were a little burnish'd apple
For you to pluck me, gliding by so cold,
While sun and shade your robe of lawn will dapple,
Your robe of lawn, and your hair's spun gold.
Yea, would to God I were among the roses
That lean to kiss you as you float between,
While on the lowest branch a bud uncloses,
A bud uncloses, to touch you, queen.
Nay, since you will not love, would I were growing,
A happy daisy, in the garden path;
That so your silver foot might press me going,
Might press me going even unto death.
其实,这首曲子还有其他好多种填词,包括国内的作者,但是从传播程度看主要就是丹尼男孩和倫敦德里小調
The song of today in Wiston´s Irish Tunes is an old and classic tune in the irish folk. Although the name of the song , Londonderry Air, is not the only one of the song, it was the first and sadly, actually is the less known. The original name of the tune was forgot when a new lyrics were wrote in 1913 by Frederic Edward Weatherley and renamed as (very well known) Danny Boy. The name of this cover, Londonderry Air, comes from the county of Londonderry in Northern Ireland . This record, really old, was sung by a very famous and gifted irish tenor: John McCormack, who even was said to be better than Caruso. I recommend you listening his records of The Minstrel Boy and The Star of the County Down. That´s all folks! Subscribe if you like and comment if you want to make me happy!
Lyrics:
Would God I were the tender apple blossom
That floats and falls from off the twisted bough
To lie and faint within your silken bosom
Within your silken bosom as that does now.
Or would I were a little burnish'd apple
For you to pluck me, gliding by so cold
While sun and shade you robe of lawn will dapple
Your robe of lawn, and you hair's spun gold.
Yea, would to God I were among the roses
That lean to kiss you as you float between
While on the lowest branch a bud uncloses
A bud uncloses, to touch you, queen.
Nay, since you will not love, would I were growing