Oh, where little Martina?
Over yonder she stands.
Rifle on her shoulder,
Six-shooter in her hand.
How can I ever stand it,
Just to see them two blue eyes,
Shinin' like some diamonds,
Like some diamonds in the sky.
Well, it's march me away to the station
With my suitcase in my hand.
Yes, march me away to the station,
I'm off to some far-distant land.
Sometimes I have a nickel,
And sometimes I have a dime.
Sometimes I have ten dollars,
Just to pay for little Martina's milk.
Pretty flowers are made for blooming,
Pretty stars are made to shine.
Pretty girls are made for boy's love,
Little Martina was made for us.
1 comment:
Edu, gràcies per ser seguidor. Ja hauras vist que acabo d'actualitzar!
A veure si cau un comentari.
Podras parcticar el teu francès exquisit!
Estic flipant amb el teu blog.
A veure, quina és la temàtica ? No entenc res ?
Per cert,la petita qui és ?
Quan arribis a sancagat fes un truc!
Una abraçada
Joangi
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