Es de klanke van de aovendklok weer juub'lend es muziek euver os Limburgs lendje goan dan veule veer os riek En door de aovendzon besjtroald kniele keenjer veur 't kruus dat-ste allein in Limburg nog langs eed're Zandjweg zuus:
Wie sjoen os Limburg is begrip toch neemes allein de zuuderling dae Limburg leef is want do'or de jaore heen blif Limburg onbetwis 't stjokske Nederland dat 't sjoensten is
Es ein zilv'rig lintje-n-is de Maas door berg en bosj omzuimp woo eed're zuuderling dae in de vraemde-n-is van druimp Want velt 't laave soms nest met en zeuks-ste nog get gelok blief aeven in gedachte sjtoan en dink aan Limburg trok:
Wie sjoen os Limburg is begrip toch neemes allein de zuuderling dae Limburg leef is want do'or de jaore heen blif Limburg onbetwis 't stjokske Nederland dat 't sjoenste-n-is
Es de klanke van de aovendklok weer juub'lend es muziek euver os Limburgs lendje goan dan veule veer os riek En door de aovendzon besjtroald kniele keenjer veur 't kruus dat-ste allein in Limburg nog langs eed're Zandjweg zuus:
Wie sjoen os Limburg is begrip toch neemes allein de zuuderling dae Limburg leef is want do'or de jaore heen blif Limburg onbetwis 't stjokske Nederland dat 't sjoensten is
Es ein zilv'rig lintje-n-is de Maas door berg en bosj omzuimp woo eed're zuuderling dae in de vraemde-n-is van druimp Want velt 't laave soms nest met en zeuks-ste nog get gelok blief aeven in gedachte sjtoan en dink aan Limburg trok:
Wie sjoen os Limburg is begrip toch neemes allein de zuuderling dae Limburg leef is want do'or de jaore heen blif Limburg onbetwis 't stjokske Nederland dat 't sjoenste-n-is
Some say love, it is a river that drowns the tender reed. Some say love, it is a razor that leaves your soul to bleed. Some say love, it is a hunger, an endless aching need.
I say love, it is a flower, and you it's only seed. It's the heart afraid of breaking that never learns to dance. It's the dream afraid of waking that never takes the chance. It's the one who won't be taken, who cannot seem to give, and the sould afraid of dyin' that never learns to live.
When the night has been too lonely and the road has been to long, and you think that love is only for the lucky and the strong, just remember in the winter far beneath the bitter snows lies the seed that with the sun's love in the spring becomes the rose
Some say love, it is a river that drowns the tender reed. Some say love, it is a razor that leaves your soul to bleed. Some say love, it is a hunger, an endless aching need.
I say love, it is a flower, and you it's only seed. It's the heart afraid of breaking that never learns to dance. It's the dream afraid of waking that never takes the chance. It's the one who won't be taken, who cannot seem to give, and the sould afraid of dyin' that never learns to live.
When the night has been too lonely and the road has been to long, and you think that love is only for the lucky and the strong, just remember in the winter far beneath the bitter snows lies the seed that with the sun's love in the spring becomes the rose