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Tekstovi: Black 47. Home of the Brave. Different Drummer.

Born on a black Monday, me mother screamin' curses
Me old lad in the pub losin' money on the horses
Me granny kicked in the door said, "Get a job, you bastard"
And I come rollin' into the world, a walkin' talkin' disaster

With a toot on the flute and a twiddle on the fiddle, oh
Music in me soul and a beat on me boom box
So up, down, turn around and crash into the wall
Dancin' to the beat of me own different drummer, oh

At the age of 16 years I was apprenticed to a grocer
But they never knew me name, all they wanted was, 'Yes And No Sir'
So I bought a cheap guitar, I learnt to write me poetry
And me, and rock and roll set off to see the country

Oh, we played in pubs and dance halls, we even played in brothels
I learned all about the good life through the ass end of a bottle
I learned about love from many's the fine lady
But I was always searchin' for me one true darlin', baby

With a toot on the flute and a twiddle on the fiddle, oh
Music in me soul and a beat on me boom box
So up, down, turn around and crash into the wall
Dancin' to the beat of me own different drummer, oh

Oh, I searched from coast to coast, from Florida to Canada
With me heart upon me sleeve screamin' out, "Hi, where are ya?"
'Til I went home with a six foot girl from the south side of Chicago
But it turned out she was a man, oh, can you imagine the disaster?

But the sweetest girl of all was from the state of California
Oh, she took me home to bed, kept me rockin' 'til the mornin'
Then the door came crashin' in, in the midst of me shenanigans
And her husband beat me up so bad, I'll never get it up again

With a toot on the flute and a twiddle on the fiddle, oh
Music in me soul and a beat on me boom box, oh
So up, down, turn around and crash into the wall
Dancin' to the beat of me own different drummer, oh

Oh I'm goin' back to Brooklyn with me tail between me legs, oh
I'm givin' up this rock and roll, 'tis far too dangerous work, oh
Stay at your steady jobs, me boys, get married and have babies
And keep the hell away from them California ladies

With a toot on the flute and a twiddle on the fiddle, oh
Music in me soul and a beat on me boom box
So up, down, turn around and crash into the wall
Dancin' to the beat of me own different drummer, oh

With a toot on the flute and a twiddle on the fiddle, oh
Music in me soul and a beat on me boom box
So up, down, turn around and crash into the wall
Dancin' to the beat of me own different drummer, oh

With a toot on the flute and a twiddle on the fiddle, oh
Music in me soul and a beat on me boom box
So up, down, turn around and crash into the wall
Dancin' to the beat of me own different drummer, oh