词汇：sing

vi. 唱歌；鸣叫；歌颂；呼号

相关场景

She ate the rest of the batter off her own finger and went back to stirring the cake. A minute later Lorena walked into the room and picked up the baby. July was hoping she would take the baby out of the kitchen, but instead she sat down at the table and began to sing to him. Then, to make matters worse, both girls came in and began to make over the baby too. Martin was laughing and trying to grab a spoon away from one of the girls. Clara looked at July again, and the look made him feel a fool. He didn’t get an answer to his question and soon had to go back to doing his chores.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
For the next few days everyone was tense, expecting Indian attack. Several men took alarm at the sight of what turned out to be sagebrush or low bushes. No one could sleep at night, and even those hands who were not on guard spent much of the night checking and rechecking their ammunition. The Irishman was afraid to sing on night duty for fear of leading the Indians straight to them. In fact, night herding became highly unpopular with everyone, and instead of gambling for money men began to gamble over who took what watch. The midnight watch was the most unpopular. No one wanted to leave the campfire: the men who came in from the watches did so with profound relief, and the men who went out assumed they were going to their deaths. Some almost cried. Needle Nelson trembled so that he could barely get his foot in his stirrup. Jasper Fant sometimes even got off and walked when he was on the far side of the herd, reasoning that the Indians would be less likely to spot him if he was on foot.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
“You don’t need to sing,” Call said.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
“I don’t intend to,” Augustus said. “But some of the men might. That Irishman is delirious. He ain’t used to such dry country.” Indeed the terrible heat had driven Allen O’Brien out of his head. Now and then he would try to sing, though his tongue was swollen and his lips cracked.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
Newt, with the Rainey boys, was holding the drags, as usual. The wind howled across the flat plain, and the sand seemed to sing as it skimmed the ground. Newt found that looking into the wind blinded him almost instantly. He mostly ducked his head and kept his eyes shut. The horses didn’t like the sand either. They began to duck and jump around, irritated at being forced into such a wind.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
“What are we waiting on?” Lippy asked. “We’re three miles behind already.” Po Campo stood by the water’s edge, looking across the Platte to the south. He was thinking of his dead sons, killed by Blue Duck on the Canadian. He didn’t think often of his sons, but when he did, a feeling of sadness filled him, a feeling so heavy that it was an effort for him to move. Thinking of them in their graves in New Mexico made him feel disloyal, made him feel that he should have shot himself and been buried with them, for was it not the duty of a parent to stay with the children? But he had left, first to go south and kill his faithless wife, and now to the north, while Blue Duck, the killer, still rode free on the llano—unless someone had killed him, which Po Campo doubted. Lippy’s fears about Indians did not move him—the sight of flowing water moved him, stirring feelings in him which, though sad, were deep feelings. They made him want to sing his saddest songs.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
“I think it must be a fine gift, singing,” he said. “If I could sing like the Irishman, I would just ride around singing all day. I might get a job in a barroom, like Lippy used to have.” Lorena didn’t want to talk to him. She hated the way she felt. Better if something happens and kills us both, she thought.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
“Did you ever like to sing?” he asked, trying to get her to talk about something else.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
The moon was full and the prairie shadowy. Pea Eye was attempting to sing to the cattle, but his voice was nothing to compare to the Irishman’s.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
“What do you say?” She made a snort of disgust. “Introduce yourself, if you can’t think of nothing else,” she said. “Or sing him a song. He’s sociable. He likes a little talk.” July looked at the baby, but couldn’t think of a song.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
The Kansas sky was thickly seeded with stars. He listened to the Irishman sing the sad songs that seemed to soothe the cattle. He spent the whole night thinking about the woman in the tent nearby, imagining things that might happen when they finally came to Montana and were through with the trail. He didn’t sleep, or want to sleep, for there was no telling when he would get a chance to spend another night close to her. His horse grazed nearby on the good grass, which grew wet with dew as the morning came.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
“Not today,” Augustus said. “Today she’s feeling sulky. If I was you I’d sing to her.” “Sing to Lorie?” Dish said, incredulous. “Why, I’d be so scared I’d choke.” “Well, if you require timid women there’s not much I can do for you,” Augustus said. “Just keep a good guard at night andsee she don’t get kidnapped.” Call hated to leave the herd, and most of the cowboys hated it that he was leaving. Though it was midsummer, the skies clear, and the plains seemingly peaceful, most of the hands looked worried as the little group prepared to leave. They sat around worrying, all but Po Campo, who was singing quietly in his raspy voice as he made supper. Even Lippy was unnerved. He was modest in some matters and had just returned from walking a mile, in order to relieve his bowels in private.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
He sat up much of the night, listening to the Irishman sing to the cattle. As he was listening, a skunk walked between him and the mare. It nosed along, stopping now and then to scratch at the dirt. Call sat still and the skunk soon went on its way. The Hell Bitch paid it no mind. She went on quietly grazing.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
“Because it was as close as you ever came to doing something normal,” Augustus said. “It’s all I’ve got to work with. Here you’ve brought these cattle all this way, with all this inconvenience to me and everybody else, and you don’t have no reason in this world to be doing it.” Call didn’t answer. He sat smoking. The Irishman had begun to sing to the herd.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
“I don’t say we won’t,” Dish said. “That’s up to the Captain. But if it ain’t no bigger than Dodge, it wouldn’t take much to miss it.” Po Campo had become a great favorite with the men because of the tastiness of his cooking. He was friendly and kind to everyone, and yet, like the Captain, he kept apart. Po just did it in a different way. He might sing to them in his throaty voice, but he was a man of mystery, a strange man, walking all day behind the wagon, and at night whittling his little women. Soon each of the cowboys had been given one of the carvings.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
“I don’t say we won’t,” Dish said. “That’s up to the Captain. But if it ain’t no bigger than Dodge, it wouldn’t take much to miss it.” Po Campo had become a great favorite with the men because of the tastiness of his cooking. He was friendly and kind to everyone, and yet, like the Captain, he kept apart. Po just did it in a different way. He might sing to them in his throaty voice, but he was a man of mystery, a strange man, walking all day behind the wagon, and at night whittling his little women. Soon each of the cowboys had been given one of the carvings.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
“I don’t sing about myself,” Campo said. “I sing about life. I am happy, but life is sad. The songs don’t belong to me.” “Well, you sing them, who do they belong to?” Pea asked.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
The sound could make the hairs stand upon Pea Eye’s neck. “That’s right, Po. You do sing sad, for a happy man,” Pea Eye observed once, as the old man shook his gourd.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
“Po, you’re a jolly fellow, how come you only sing about death?” Soupy asked. Po had a little rattle, made from a gourd, and he shook it when he sang. The rattle, plus his low throaty voice, made a curious effect.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
“I dream about them,” Janey said, not reassured. “They just keep coming, and I can’t run.” Except for snapping turtles and sleep, she seemed to fear nothing. Many times coiled rattlers would sing at them as they traveled, and Janey would never give the snakes a glance. Old Memphis was more nervous about snakes than she was, and Roscoe more nervous than either one of them. He had once heard of a man being bitten by a rattlesnake that had gotten up in a tree. According to the story, the snake had dropped right off a limb and onto the man and had bitten him in the neck. Roscoe imagined how unpleasant it could be to have a snake drop on one’s neck—he took care to ride under as few limbs as possible and was glad to see the trees thinning out as they rode west.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
“If you’d like to sing or something, do it,” Call said. Allen stood a moment, started singing an Irish song in a quavering voice, then broke down crying and couldn’t finish it.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
“Why, it’s the only herd on the trail that’s got two Irish baritones to sing to it,” Augustus said.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
As they ate, the dusk deepened. Sean O’Brien, on the far side of the herd, began to sing his night song, an Irish melody whose words did not carry across the long plain where the cattle stood. But in the still night the sound carried; somehow it made Newt want to cry. He was sitting stiffly only a few feet from Lorena. He had been looking at her closely for the first time—hardly daring to, and yet feeling that he was safe because of the dusk. She was more beautiful than he had imagined, but she did not look happy—it gave him a painful feeling to see her unhappiness, and the song made it worse.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
Newt and the two Irishmen were holding the herd. The Irishmen were particularly good night herders because they could sing; their melodies seemed to soothe the cattle. In fact, the whole camp enjoyed the Irish singing. Newt couldn’t sing a lick, but he had rapidly developed into such a skilled cowhand that Call felt a little guilty for having held him back so long.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
That was even more puzzling. “Maybe you hear Gus,” Call said. “Surely he wouldn’t be crazy enough to sing now.” “I’m going a little closer,” Deets said, handing Newt his reins.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇