Biografia:
Bruce Duncan Phillips nació el 15 de mayo de 1935 en Cleveland, Ohio. Murió a los 73 años en Nevada, California, el viernes 23 de Mayo de 2008.
Cantante de folk norteamericano, cuentacuentos y andarrieles, durante 38 años se dedicó incansablemente a componer para dos continentes. En vida, se comprometió con las luchas obreras y fue orgulloso mienmbro de los "Industrial Workers of the World" (Trabajadores Industriales del Mundo), conocidos popularmente como los "Wobblies".
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Outras músicas:
Quatro anos de trabalho duro!Neste mês de maio fizemos quatro anos no ar. Continuamos trabalhando na divulgação deste maravilhoso instrumento, obrigado por participar da nossa história!
G C
One cold autumn morning the leaves had turned brown
G D
A hobo came tramping through a small western town
G C
He walked through the church yard to the preacher?s back door
G D G
Where he knew there was refuge and room for the poor
Chorus: (Chorus and verses follow same chord pattern as above)
Is there room for the poor across the divide
Where bums don?t go hungry and freezing outside
Or will they be driven from the Savior?s back door
Oh say up in heaven is there room for the poor
He knocked and then waited for the preacher to come
With just a kind word for a broken down bum
The preacher arrived and looked out in dismay
With a few angry words he?d drive him away
Chorus
Oh if you won?t offer me something to eat
May I sit here a moment and rest my poor feet
I?ve traveled so far now I?m weary and sore
Oh say up in heaven is there room for the poor
Chorus (x2)
One cold autumn morning the leaves had turned brown
G D
A hobo came tramping through a small western town
G C
He walked through the church yard to the preacher?s back door
G D G
Where he knew there was refuge and room for the poor
Chorus: (Chorus and verses follow same chord pattern as above)
Is there room for the poor across the divide
Where bums don?t go hungry and freezing outside
Or will they be driven from the Savior?s back door
Oh say up in heaven is there room for the poor
He knocked and then waited for the preacher to come
With just a kind word for a broken down bum
The preacher arrived and looked out in dismay
With a few angry words he?d drive him away
Chorus
Oh if you won?t offer me something to eat
May I sit here a moment and rest my poor feet
I?ve traveled so far now I?m weary and sore
Oh say up in heaven is there room for the poor
Chorus (x2)
Utopians
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