For the drunkard's mother (open D)
Now who would have thought that a mother's own son
would sleep beneath the bridge, assisted by none.
And who would have known how he'd fought in the war,
seen all the horrors, the war is known for.
Well I never suppose that his mom would approve,
the garbage can dinners and (boots slam the news) <- pas l'air teerible mais j'ai beau écouter...
Well he'd grown to a man, a little too fast
before anyone knew, the world have oldered his past
How could she protect him, what could she do
For her own little son when the world pushed its way through?
She couldn't bear to hear it and her heart it did break,
She couldn't help her boy, she just passed away
And now he's alone, more alone than before
With no roof to shield him and rocks for his floor.
And he hears a soft voice backening him home
Where he'll always be loved and never alone
Who would have known it, known of her life <- pas terrible non plus mais c'est clairement ce qu'on entend...
to find him like this in the cold morning light