The lyrics of ediq ancient town night streamer

The west mountain is full of pines,

More cricket ancient road.

The baby is crying,

A fishing net is set up on the willow Bank of a small boat,

There is no wind in the old lane and the river is cool,

The walls are mottled on the vine.

On the other side of the Lok Ma Bridge stage,

There is a small embroidery workshop,

The fire is flickering.

The most distant memory is actually hometown

There is an old ancestral hall,

The fragrance is flourishing.

Carved in the memory of the hollowed out flower window, (whose lantern light leakage)

There are "Liu Hai Xi Chan" window frames,

Craftsmen.

The Fengshui tree is on the left of the silk shop on the corner

By the well of suppressing the black dragon,

Ma Tau wallwatts.

In the memory of the old man, the needle and thread are peaceful,

Now the grave is yellow with wormwood,

I remember when you were young, you made a bowl of ginger soup,

I'm talking about the secretary.

Stone street wooden gate archway,

Put the vicissitudes of life in a lotus pond.

The girl is in the boudoir,

By the yard, dogs barking,

The fish startled the ripples,

The stone wall is fragrant with pear flowers,

On the other side of the Lok Ma Bridge stage,

There is a small embroidery workshop,

The fire is flickering.

The most distant memory is actually hometown,

There is an old ancestral hall,

The fragrance is flourishing.

In the memory of the old man, the needle and thread are peaceful,

Now the grave is yellow with wormwood,

I remember when you were young, you made a bowl of ginger soup,

I'm talking about the secretary.

The stone in the temple, the starlight,

Bajiao private school singing.

In the story, the ancient town of Jiaqing is shining at night,

Now the withered grass grows on the wall,

I remember the time when children trampled under the arch bridge,

A play sings slowly.

In the story, the ancient town of Jiaqing is shining at night,

Now the withered grass grows on the wall,

I remember the time when children trampled under the arch bridge,

A play sings slowly.

The west mountain is full of pines,

More cricket ancient road,

The ancient town nestles at the foot of the mountain,

Mother is asleep.