Текст и слова песни Hank Snow – On The Rhythm Range
I was born a rover on the rhythmic range
A rootin', tootin' terror and I never will change
I sing a tune a day and travell all of the way in rhythm
Everything around me is a part of my song
They seem to want to follow as I ramble along
The lazy hawk in the sky is even tempted to try my rhythm.
On the rhythm range
On the rhythm range
Everything is keepin' time
To a sorta rhythmic rhyme, and rhythm.
Everytime a Sunday comes a rolling around
Down beside the water hole I'm sure to be found
I'll be scrubin' and rubin' in a manner profound in rhythm
Water from a thousand feet is colder than air
I always thought the devil kept it warmer down there
I guess it were to his path so I'll be takin' my bath in rhythm.
On the rhythm range
On the rhythm range
Everything is keepin' time
To a sorta rhythmic rhyme, and rhythm.
I asked the prairie chicken when he started to scratch
If sandy fleas and bumble bees could hatch a better hatch
He said the only thing found beneath this doggone ground is rhythm
He started into workin' with a pause of his head
And then he turned around to me and here's what he said
I ain't a diggin' for gold but when I'm scratchin' my soul got rhythm.
On the rhythm range
On the rhythm range
Everything is keepin' time
To a sorta rhythmic rhyme, and rhythm...
A rootin', tootin' terror and I never will change
I sing a tune a day and travell all of the way in rhythm
Everything around me is a part of my song
They seem to want to follow as I ramble along
The lazy hawk in the sky is even tempted to try my rhythm.
On the rhythm range
On the rhythm range
Everything is keepin' time
To a sorta rhythmic rhyme, and rhythm.
Everytime a Sunday comes a rolling around
Down beside the water hole I'm sure to be found
I'll be scrubin' and rubin' in a manner profound in rhythm
Water from a thousand feet is colder than air
I always thought the devil kept it warmer down there
I guess it were to his path so I'll be takin' my bath in rhythm.
On the rhythm range
On the rhythm range
Everything is keepin' time
To a sorta rhythmic rhyme, and rhythm.
I asked the prairie chicken when he started to scratch
If sandy fleas and bumble bees could hatch a better hatch
He said the only thing found beneath this doggone ground is rhythm
He started into workin' with a pause of his head
And then he turned around to me and here's what he said
I ain't a diggin' for gold but when I'm scratchin' my soul got rhythm.
On the rhythm range
On the rhythm range
Everything is keepin' time
To a sorta rhythmic rhyme, and rhythm...
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