[00:00.000] 作词 : Bob Dylan
[00:01.000] 作曲 : Bob Dylan
[00:04.31]Come gather round friends
[00:06.81]And Ill tell you a tale Of when the red iron pits ran plenty
[00:15.92]But the cardboard filled windows
[00:18.60]And old men on the benches
[00:22.53]Tell you now that the whole town is empty
[00:30.33]In the north end of town
[00:32.46]My own children are grown
[00:36.89]But I was raised on the other
[00:42.93]In the wee hours of youth
[00:45.43]My mother took sick
[00:49.80]And I was brought up by my brother
[00:53.85]The iron ore poured As the years passed the door
[01:02.60]The drag lines an the shovels they was a-humming  til one day my brother
[01:11.32]Failed to come home
[01:14.51]The same as my father before him
[01:21.93]Well a long winters wait
[01:24.12]From the window I watched
[01:28.37]My friends they couldnt have been kinder
[01:33.35]And my schooling was cut
[01:35.85]As I quit in the spring
[01:40.35]To marry john thomas  a miner
[01:48.87]Oh the years passed again
[01:50.62]And the givin was good
[01:54.17]With the lunch bucket filled every season
[02:01.25]What with three babies born
[02:03.00]The work was cut down
[02:08.59]To a half a days shift with no reason
[02:14.46]Then the shaft was soon shut
[02:16.65]And more work was cut
[02:20.70]And the fire in the air  it felt frozen  til a man come to speak
[02:29.44]And he said in one week
[02:33.86]That number eleven was closin
[02:42.16]They complained in the east
[02:44.85]They are paying too high
[02:48.97]They say that your ore aint worth digging
[02:55.21]That its much cheaper down
[02:57.39]In the south american towns
[03:02.08]Where the miners work almost for nothing
[03:10.68]So the mining gates locked
[03:12.62]And the red iron rotted
[03:17.30]And the room smelled heavy from drinking
[03:23.41]Where the sad  silent song
[03:25.98]Made the hour twice as long
[03:30.29]As I waited for the sun to go sinking
[03:36.33]  I lived by the window
[03:38.52]As he talked to himself
[03:43.38]This silence of tongues it was building
[03:46.13]Then one mornings wake
[03:52.00]The bed it was bare
[03:56.30]The summer is gone
[04:05.16]The grounds turning cold
[04:09.40]The stores one by one theyre a-foldin
[04:12.53]My children will go
[04:18.33]As soon as they grow
[04:22.63]Well  there aint nothing here now to hold them