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#1
07-29-2004, 05:27 AM
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Trích:
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 Donna Donna On a wagon, bound for market, There’s a calf with a mournful eye . High above him, there’s a swallow, Winging swiftly through the sky ... Stop complaining, said the farmer, Who told you a calf to be ? Why don’t you have wings to fly with, Like the swallow so proud and free ... Calves are easily bound and slaughtered, Never knowing the reason why . But whoever treasures freedom, Like the swallow has learned to fly ... How the winds are laughing, They laugh with all their might . Laugh and laugh the whole day through, And half the summer’s night ... Donna, Donna, Donna, Don - na. Donna, Donna, Donna, Don ... 
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