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| Black 47 Black 47 Black 47 Everything is still Not a chicken not a body Just an awful sickenin' silence roarin' in my brain And the fog of death deepens and lies upon the land An ould wan rolls over on her back The grass stains still green upon her chin I can sill hear her keenin' and screamin' in the wind There's no love left on earth And God is dead in heaven In these dark and deadly days of Black 47 God's curse upon you Lord Trevelyan May your great Queen Victoria rot in hell 'Til England and its Empire Answer under heaven For the crimes they committed in Black 47 Paudie said "c'mon now Don't look back, she's not livin', she's a phantom And she'll curse us if we look into her eyes" Oh God, I think I'm dyin' - the fever's in my brain For can't you see that pack of children up ahead The beards of old men sproutin' from their chins Can't you hear their screams of hunger in the wind Darlin' Paudie save me I think I'm sinkin' fast, me blood is boilin' Don't let me die here in a ditch If the hunger doesn't get me - the fever surely will Paudie took me up and threw me 'cross his shoulder He nursed me everyday 'til we reached Amerikay Screamin' and shoutin' like two madmen in the wind [*]=====================[*] [*] typed in by: [*] [*] Gary Adkins [*] [*] gary@gnu.ai.mit.edu [*] [*]=====================[*] |
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