At the Cobblestone
9 de ene. de 2025 ·
2m 30s
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At the Cobblestone - (📝Marcella Boccia) - Beneath the waning Dublin sky The Cobblestone called and so did I To find where fiddles wove their thread And banished sorrow’s weighty...
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At the Cobblestone
- (📝Marcella Boccia) -
Beneath the waning Dublin sky
The Cobblestone called
and so did I
To find where fiddles
wove their thread
And banished sorrow’s
weighty dread
The bodhrán’s thrum
the whistle’s sigh
Bound hearts as one
though none knew why
A pint of black
though sinless
crowned
The night
where laughter’s spell
was found
There sat a man
with beard of flame
His eyes
green embers
called my name
With tales of rebels
hills
and streams
He pulled me
into woven dreams
We spoke of nothing
yet so much
Our worries lost
to mirth’s soft touch
The world’s woes faded
thin as mist
Each word we shared
a fleeting tryst
His hand
so firm
an anchor there
Held fast
a yellow umbrella rare
A beacon bright
amid the gloom
A charm
against the future’s tomb
Oh guide of Dublinesque delight
Will you not linger
past this night
For in your voice
the lilt of song
That bids the weary heart
grow strong
The fiddles stilled
the clock struck late
Yet time seemed shy
to close its gate
For in his gaze
I dared to see
A life unbound
both wild and free
So raise the glass
let health return
Let fires of joy
within us burn
And though the night
must fade away
Its memory
will forever stay
mostra menos
- (📝Marcella Boccia) -
Beneath the waning Dublin sky
The Cobblestone called
and so did I
To find where fiddles
wove their thread
And banished sorrow’s
weighty dread
The bodhrán’s thrum
the whistle’s sigh
Bound hearts as one
though none knew why
A pint of black
though sinless
crowned
The night
where laughter’s spell
was found
There sat a man
with beard of flame
His eyes
green embers
called my name
With tales of rebels
hills
and streams
He pulled me
into woven dreams
We spoke of nothing
yet so much
Our worries lost
to mirth’s soft touch
The world’s woes faded
thin as mist
Each word we shared
a fleeting tryst
His hand
so firm
an anchor there
Held fast
a yellow umbrella rare
A beacon bright
amid the gloom
A charm
against the future’s tomb
Oh guide of Dublinesque delight
Will you not linger
past this night
For in your voice
the lilt of song
That bids the weary heart
grow strong
The fiddles stilled
the clock struck late
Yet time seemed shy
to close its gate
For in his gaze
I dared to see
A life unbound
both wild and free
So raise the glass
let health return
Let fires of joy
within us burn
And though the night
must fade away
Its memory
will forever stay
InformaciĂłn
| Autor | Marcella Boccia |
| OrganizaciĂłn | Marcella Boccia |
| Página web | - |
| Etiquetas |
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