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无良消音+降调
还很ry 窘
Though I a wanderer be
No home on land or sea
Still my heart returns to thee
In silent reverie
Though on Scotland's bonnie shore
My feet shall tread no more
When I die will you bury me
Beneath a rowan tree
I love thy frosty morn
Where the hunter winds his horn
And thy heathered noors and glens
I'll not roam again
Though on Scotland's purple bresat
I no longer take my rest
When I die will you bury me
Beneath a rowan tree
At brave Culloden's stand
Highland blood like water ran
With 30,000 pounds upon my head
For dear life I fled
Oh but though no crown I won
I'll always be your native son
So when I die will your bury me
Beneath a rowan tree
Beneath a rowan tree |
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