[00:00.000] 作词 : Bob Dylan
[00:01.000] 作曲 : Bob Dylan
[00:03.31]Come gather round friends
[00:05.81]And I'll tell you a tale of when the red iron pits ran plenty
[00:14.92]But the cardboard filled windows
[00:17.60]And old men on the benches
[00:21.53]Tell you now that the whole town is empty
[00:29.33]In the north end of town
[00:31.46]My own children are grown
[00:35.89]But I was raised on the other
[00:41.94]In the wee hours of youth
[00:44.44]My mother took sick
[00:48.80]And I was brought up by my brother
[00:55.86]The iron ore poured As the years passed the door
[01:01.60]The drag lines an the shovels they was a-humming 'til one day my brother
[01:09.33]Failed to come home
[01:13.51]The same as my father before him
[01:20.94]Well a long winters wait
[01:23.13]From the window I watched
[01:27.37]My friends they couldn't have been kinder
[01:32.36]And my schooling was cut
[01:34.86]As I quit in the spring
[01:39.35]To marry John Thomas a miner
[01:47.87]Oh the years passed again
[01:49.62]And the givin' was good
[01:53.17]With the lunch bucket filled every season
[01:59.25]What with three babies born
[02:02.00]The work was cut down
[02:06.59]To a half a days shift with no reason
[02:13.46]Then the shaft was soon shut
[02:15.65]And more work was cut
[02:19.70]And the fire in the air it felt frozen 'til a man come to speak
[02:28.44]And he said in one week
[02:32.86]That number eleven was closin'
[02:41.16]They complained in the east
[02:43.85]They are paying too high
[02:47.97]They say that your ore ain't worth digging
[02:54.21]That it's much cheaper down
[02:56.39]In the south American towns
[03:01.08]Where the miners work almost for nothing
[03:09.68]So the mining gates locked
[03:11.62]And the red iron rotted
[03:16.30]And the room smelled heavy from drinking
[03:22.41]Where the sad silent song
[03:24.98]Made the hour twice as long
[03:29.29]As I waited for the sun to go sinking
[03:35.33]I lived by the window
[03:37.52]As he talked to himself
[03:42.38]This silence of tongues it was building
[03:45.13]Then one mornings wake
[03:51.00]The bed it was bare
[03:54.30] and I was left lonely with three children
[03:55.30]The summer is gone
[04:04.16]The grounds turning cold
[04:08.40]The stores one by one they're a-foldin'
[04:11.53]My children will go
[04:17.33]As soon as they grow
[04:21.63]Well there ain't nothing here now to hold them