Biografía:
He was vocalist who played good old Irish folk,and irish nationalist songs.He was a great source of enjoyment during the 1970s.
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¡Cuatro años de duro trabajo!Este mes de mayo cumplimos cuatro años al aire. Seguimos trabajando en la difusión de este maravilloso instrumento, ¡gracias por participar en nuestra historia!
[Verse 1]
D A
My feet are here on Broadway,this blessed harvest morn,
G D A D
But o the ache thats in them for the place where I was born,
D A
My weary hands are blistered,from working cold and heath,
G D A D
But o to swing the scythe again,in a field of Irish wheat,
G A
Had I the chance to wander back or own a King's abode,
D G A D
I'd sooner see the hawthorn tree,by the old bog road.
[Verse 2]
D A
My mother died last springtime,when Ireland's field's were green,
G D A D
The neighbours said her waking was the finest ever seen,
D A
There were snowdrops and primroses,piled high beside her bed,
G D A D
And Ferns Church was crouded,when the funeral mass was said,
G A
But here was I on Broadway,just building bricks by load,
D G A D
When they carried out her coffin down the Old Bog Road.
[Verse 3]
D A
Now life is a weary puzzle,as finding out by man,
G D A D
I take the day for what it's worth,and do the best I can,
D A
Since no one cares a rush for me what need for me to moan,
G D A D
I go my way and draw my pay and smoke my pipe alone,
G A
Each human heart must know it's grief,though bitter be the load,
D G A D
So God be with you Ireland,and the Old Bog Road.
D A
My feet are here on Broadway,this blessed harvest morn,
G D A D
But o the ache thats in them for the place where I was born,
D A
My weary hands are blistered,from working cold and heath,
G D A D
But o to swing the scythe again,in a field of Irish wheat,
G A
Had I the chance to wander back or own a King's abode,
D G A D
I'd sooner see the hawthorn tree,by the old bog road.
[Verse 2]
D A
My mother died last springtime,when Ireland's field's were green,
G D A D
The neighbours said her waking was the finest ever seen,
D A
There were snowdrops and primroses,piled high beside her bed,
G D A D
And Ferns Church was crouded,when the funeral mass was said,
G A
But here was I on Broadway,just building bricks by load,
D G A D
When they carried out her coffin down the Old Bog Road.
[Verse 3]
D A
Now life is a weary puzzle,as finding out by man,
G D A D
I take the day for what it's worth,and do the best I can,
D A
Since no one cares a rush for me what need for me to moan,
G D A D
I go my way and draw my pay and smoke my pipe alone,
G A
Each human heart must know it's grief,though bitter be the load,
D G A D
So God be with you Ireland,and the Old Bog Road.
Johnny Parks
Johnny Preston
Johnny Q Public
Johnny Rain
Johnny Ray