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Harry Connick Jr.
Harry Connick Jr.


Информация
Настоящее имя Joseph Harry Fowler Connick, Jr.
Дата рождения 11 сентября 1967 г.
Откуда New Orleans, Louisiana, United States
Жанры Swing
Traditional pop
Big band
Jazz-Funk
Годы 1977—н.в.
Лейблы Columbia Records
Сайт Website



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Альбом Harry Connick Jr.


25 (24.11.1992)
24.11.1992
1.
2.
Music, Maestro, Please
3.
4.
After You've Gone
5.
6.
Moment's Notice
7.
8.
9.
Caravan
10.
11.
Muskrat Ramble
12.
13.
. . .



And now the purple dusk of twilight time
Steals across the meadow of my heart
High up in the sky the little stars climb
Always reminding me that we're apart

You wandered down the lane and far away
Leaving me a song that will not die
Love is now a stardust of yesterday
The music of the years gone by

Sometimes I wonder why I spend
The lonely nights dreaming of a song
The melody haunts my reverie
And I am once again with you

When our love was new
And each kiss an inspiration
But that was long ago
And now my consolation
Is in the stardust of a song

Beside the garden wall
When stars are bright
You are in my arms
The nightingale tells his fairy tale
Of paradise where roses grew

Though I dream in vain
In my heart it will remain
My stardust melody
The memory of love's refrain

. . .

Music, Maestro, Please

[Нет текста]

. . .



I have often walked down this street before
But the pavement always stayed beneath my feet before
All at once am I several stories high
Knowing I'm on the street where you live

Are there lilac trees in the heart of town?
Can you hear a lark in any other part of town?
Does enchantment pour out of every door?
No, it's just on the street where you live

And oh, the towering feeling just to know
Somehow you are near
The overpowering feeling that any second
You may suddenly appear

People stop and stare, they don't bother me
For there's nowhere else on earth that I would rather be
Let the time go by, I don't care if I can be here
On the street where you live

. . .

After You've Gone

[Нет текста]

. . .



Oh, step aside, y'all ornery tenderfeet
Cause I'm about to sing my song
I'm an old cowhand from the Rio Grande
But my legs ain't bowed, and my cheeks ain't tan
Well I'm a cowboy who never saw a cow
Never roped a steer 'cause I don't know how
And I sure ain't fixin' to startin now
Oh, yippee-i-o-ki-ay, yippee-i-o-ki-ay

I'm an old cowhand from the Rio Grande
And I learned to ride before I learned to stand
Well I'm a ridin fool who is up to date
I know every trail in the Lone Star State
'Cause I ride the range in a Ford V-8
Oh, yippee-i-o-ki-ay, yippee-i-o-ki-ay

Look out, I'm gonna show y'all how to ride now
Here we go

I'm an old cowhand from the Rio Grande
And I come to town just to hear the band
I know all the songs that the cowboys know
'Bout the big corral where the dogies go
'Cause I learned them all on the radio
Oh, yippee-i-o-ki-ay, yippee-i-o-ki-ay

Now my story's almost done, so listen up!
You ain't got much longer now

I'm an old cowhand from the Rio Grande
Where the west is wild round the borderland
Where the buffalo roam around the zoo
And the indian make you a rug or two
And the old Bar-X is the Bar-be-cue
Oh, yippee-i-o-ki-ay, yippee-i-o-ki-ay

I'm just an old cowhand...

. . .

Moment's Notice

[Нет текста]

. . .



South American stories tell of a girl who's quite a dream
The beauty of her race
Though you'll doubt all the stories and think the tales are just a bit extreme
Wait till you see her face

Ooh, Tangerine, she is all they claim
With her eyes of night and lips as bright as flame
Tangerine, when she dances by
Senoritas stare and caballeros sigh

And I've seen toasts to Tangerine
Raised in every bar across the Argentine
Yes, she's got them all on the run
But her heart belongs to just one
Her heart belongs to Tangerine

. . .



Didn't he ramble, didn't he ramble
He rambled all around, in and out of town
Didn't he ramble, didn't he ramble
He rambled till the butcher cut him down

He rambled through the city
He rambled through the street
Little ol lady pass him said
"Look at the market meat!"

Didn't he ramble, didn't he ramble
He rambled all around, in and out of town
Didn't he ramble, didn't he ramble
He rambled till the butcher cut him down

. . .

Caravan

[Нет текста]

. . .



Lazybones, sleeping in the sun
How you 'spect to get your day's work done?
Never get your day's work done
Sleeping in the new day's sun

Lazybones, sleepin in the shade
How you 'spect to get your cornmeal made?
You'll never get your cornmeal made
Just sleepin in the evenin shade

When 'taters need spraying I bet you keep praying
The bugs fall off the vine
And when you go fishin, I bet you keep wishin
The fish won't grab your line

Lazybones, loafing through the day
How you 'spect to get a dime that way?
Never make a dime that way
Never heard a word I say

. . .

Muskrat Ramble

[Нет текста]

. . .



Somewhere, someday
We'll be close together, wait and see
Oh, by the way, this time the dream's on me

You'll take my hand
And you'll look at me adoringly
But as things stand, this time the dream's on me

It would be fun to be certain that I'm the one
To know that I at least supply the shoulder you cry upon
To see you through till you're everything you want to be
It can't be true, but this time the dream's on me

. . .



Do you hear that whistle down the line?
I figure that it's engine number forty-nine
She's the only one that'll sound that way
On the Atchison, Topeka, and the Santa Fe

See the old smoke risin 'round the bend
I reckon that she knows she's gonna meet a friend
Folks around these parts get the time of day
From the Atchison, Topeka, and the Santa Fe

Here she comes
Whoo hoo hoo hoo hoo
Hey Jim, you'd better get the rig
Whoo hoo hoo hoo hoo
She's got a list of passengers that's pretty big

And they'll all want lifts to Brown's Hotel
'Cause of lots of them been travelin for quite a spell
All the way from Philadelphia
On the Atchison, Topeka, and the Santa Fe

. . .


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