Jerusalem
Daliah Lavi
Artiest
Titel A-kant
Jerusalem
Lengte A-kant
02:53
Componist(en) A-kant
H. Alpert, M. Bergman, A. Bergman
Producer(s) A-kant
Norrie Paramor
Titel B-kant
Before My Very Eyes
Lengte B-kant
02:57
Componist(en) B-kant
Philipp, Skolsky, Owen
Producer(s) B-kant
Norrie Paramor
Platenlabel
Polydor
Catalogusnr
2001 187
Tipparade
Songtekst
Where the mothers of sons never cease their weeping
Where the fathers of faith in the ground lie sleeping
The seeds of time have a whirlwind reaping
Oh, Jerusalem is
Where the cobblestones wet with the blood of ages
Hear the echo of wheels turning history's pages
The cries of fools stilled the words of sages
Oh, Jerusalem is
Neath an olive tree branch anyone can listen
To the song of songs as the green leaves glisten
As summer rain falls and the raindrops christen
What Jerusalem is
And the river runs on and the world keeps turning
And the water's cold though the sands are burning
And the mountains know while we still are learning
What Jerusalem is
Oh, when will tomorrow's sons, tomorrow's daughters
Never taste of the bread cast upon the waters
And put down the swords that performed the slaughters
Where Jerusalem is
Where the cobblestones wet with the blood of ages
Hear the echo of wheels turning history's pages
The cries of fools stilled the words of sages
Oh, Jerusalem is
Neath an olive tree branch anyone can listen
To the song of songs as the green leaves glisten
As summer rain falls and the raindrops christen
What Jerusalem is
And the river, oh, the river runs on and the world keeps turning
And the water's cold though the sands are burning
The mountains know while we still are learning
What Jerusalem is
And the river, oh, the river runs on and the world keeps turning
And the water's cold though the sands are burning
The mountains know while we still are learning
What Jerusalem is
Oh, when will tomorrow's sons, tomorrow's daughters
Never taste of the bread cast upon the waters
Put down the swords that performed the slaughters
Where Jerusalem is
Where the mothers of sons never cease their weeping
Where the fathers of faith in the ground lie sleeping
Where the seeds of time have a whirlwind reaping
Oh, Jerusalem is
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