Текст песни Trouble In The Amen Corner

It was a stylish congregation

You could see they'd been around

And they had the biggest pipe organ

Of any church in town.

But over in the Amen Corner of that church

Sat Brother Ira

And he insisted every Sunday

On singing in the choir.

His voice was cracked and broken

Age had touched his vocal chords

And nearly every Sunday

He'd get behind and miss the words.

Well, at last the storm cloud burst

And the church was told in vine

That Brother Ira must stop his singing

Or the choir was gonna resign.

So the pastor appointed a committee

I think it was three or four

And they got their big fine car

And drove up to Ira's door.

They found the choir's great trouble

Sittin' in an old arm chair

And the summer's golden sunbeams

Lay upon his snow white hair.

Said York we're here dear Brother

With the best resapprobation

To discuss a little matter

That affects the congregation.

Now it was our understanding

When we bargained for the chair

That they were to relieve us

That is they'd do the singin' for us.

Now we don't want no singin'

Except what we've bought

The newest tunes are all the rage

The old ones stand for nought.

And so we have decided

Are you listenin' Brother Ira
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You'll have to stop your singin'

It's messin' up our choir.

The old man raised his head

A sign that he did hear

And on his cheek the three men

Caught the glitter of a tear.

His feeble hands pushed back the locks

As white as silky snow

And he answered the committee

In a voice both soft and low.

I've sung the songs of David

Nearly eighty years said he

They've been my staff and comfort

All along life's dreary way.

I'm sorry if I disturbed the choir

I guess I'm doin' wrong

But when my heart is filled with praise

I can't hold back a song.

I wonder if beyond the tide

That's breaking at my feet

In that far off heavenly temple

Where my Master I shall meet.

Yes, I wonder if when I try to sing

The songs of God up higher

I wonder if they'll kick me out

Up there for singin' in Heaven's choir.

A silence filled the little room

The old man bowed his head

The committee went on back to town

But Brother Ira was dead.

Oh, the choir missed him for a while

But he was soon forgot

And a few church goers watched the door

But the old man entered not.

Far away his voice is sweet

And he sings his heart's desire

Where there are no church committees

And no fashionable choirs.