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Author: Subject: best antiwar songs

A Peach Supreme





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  posted on 11/22/2007 at 07:49 PM
after hearing alice today, what others come to mind
born in the usa
123 what are we fighting for
neocon
???

 
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True Peach



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  posted on 11/22/2007 at 07:54 PM


"War" by Edwin Starr

"What is it good for...absolutely nuthin'"

 

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  posted on 11/22/2007 at 07:59 PM
War Pigs

 

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  posted on 11/22/2007 at 09:01 PM
Fortunate Son
 

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  posted on 11/22/2007 at 09:05 PM
Masters of War by Bob Dylan

Come you masters of war
You that build all the guns
You that build the death planes
You that build the big bombs
You that hide behind walls
You that hide behind desks
I just want you to know
I can see through your masks

You that never done nothin'
But build to destroy
You play with my world
Like it's your little toy
You put a gun in my hand
And you hide from my eyes
And you turn and run farther
When the fast bullets fly

Like Judas of old
You lie and deceive
A world war can be won
You want me to believe
But I see through your eyes
And I see through your brain
Like I see through the water
That runs down my drain

You fasten the triggers
For the others to fire
Then you set back and watch
When the death count gets higher
You hide in your mansion
As young people's blood
Flows out of their bodies
And is buried in the mud

You've thrown the worst fear
That can ever be hurled
Fear to bring children
Into the world
For threatening my baby
Unborn and unnamed
You ain't worth the blood
That runs in your veins

How much do I know
To talk out of turn
You might say that I'm young
You might say I'm unlearned
But there's one thing I know
Though I'm younger than you
Even Jesus would never
Forgive what you do

Let me ask you one question
Is your money that good
Will it buy you forgiveness
Do you think that it could
I think you will find
When your death takes its toll
All the money you made
Will never buy back your soul

And I hope that you die
And your death'll come soon
I will follow your casket
In the pale afternoon
And I'll watch while you're lowered
Down to your deathbed
And I'll stand o'er your grave
'Til I'm sure that you're dead

 
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  posted on 11/22/2007 at 09:38 PM
Some folks are born made to wave the flag,
Ooh, theyre red, white and blue.
And when the band plays hail to the chief,
Ooh, they point the cannon at you, lord,

It aint me, it aint me, I aint no senators son, son.
It aint me, it aint me; I aint no fortunate one, no,

Yeah!
Some folks are born silver spoon in hand,
Lord, dont they help themselves, oh.
But when the taxman comes to the door,
Lord, the house looks like a rummage sale, yes,

It aint me, it aint me, I aint no millionaires son, no.
It aint me, it aint me; I aint no fortunate one, no.

Some folks inherit star spangled eyes,
Ooh, they send you down to war, lord,
And when you ask them, how much should we give?
Ooh, they only answer more! more! more! yoh,

It aint me, it aint me, I aint no military son, son.
It aint me, it aint me; I aint no fortunate one, one.

It aint me, it aint me, I aint no fortunate one, no no no,
It aint me, it aint me, I aint no fortunate son, no no no,

 

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  posted on 11/22/2007 at 09:42 PM
MARVIN GAYE
What's Going On

(Al Cleveland/Marvin Gaye/Renaldo Benson)

Mother, mother
There's too many of you crying
Brother, brother, brother
There's far too many of you dying
You know we've got to find a way
To bring some lovin' here today - Ya

Father, father
We don't need to escalate
You see, war is not the answer
For only love can conquer hate

You know we've got to find a way
To bring some lovin' here today

Picket lines and picket signs
Don't punish me with brutality
Talk to me, so you can see
Oh, what's going on
What's going on
Ya, what's going on
Ah, what's going on

In the mean time
Right on, baby
Right on
Right on

Father, father, everybody thinks we're wrong
Oh, but who are they to judge us
Simply because our hair is long
Oh, you know we've got to find a way
To bring some understanding here today
Oh

Picket lines and picket signs
Don't punish me with brutality
Talk to me
So you can see
What's going on
Ya, what's going on
Tell me what's going on
I'll tell you what's going on - Uh
Right on baby
Right on baby

 

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  posted on 11/22/2007 at 09:58 PM
Give Peace a Chance

John Lennon

 

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  posted on 11/22/2007 at 10:09 PM
"We gotta get out of this place if its the last thing we ever do"

 

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  posted on 11/22/2007 at 10:27 PM
Here's some old school folkie anti-war...


I Ain't Marchin Anymore
Phil Ochs

I Ain't Marchin Anymore

Oh I marched to the battle of New Orleans
At the end of the early British war
The young land started growing
The young blood started flowing
But I ain't marchin' anymore

For I've killed my share of Indians
In a thousand different fights
I was there at the Little Big Horn
I heard many men lying I saw many more dying
But I ain't marchin' anymore

Chorus

It's always the old to lead us to the war
It's always the young to fall
Now look at all we've won with the saber and the gun
Tell me is it worth it all





 

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  posted on 11/22/2007 at 10:34 PM


Revolution (Lennon/McCartney)

You say you want a revolution
Well you know
We all want to change the world
You tell me that it's evolution
Well you know
We all want to change the world
But when you talk about destruction
Don't you know you can count me out
Don't you know it's gonna be alright
Alright Alright

You say you got a real solution
Well you know
We'd all love to see the plan
You ask me for a contribution
Well you know
We're doing what we can
But when you want money for people with minds that hate
All I can tell you is brother you have to wait
Don't you know it's gonna be alright
Alright Alright

You say you'll change the constitution
Well you know
We all want to change your head
You tell me it's the institution
Well you know
You better free your mind instead
But if you go carrying pictures of Chairman Mao
You ain't going to make it with anyone anyhow
Don't you know know it's gonna be alright
Alright Alright

 

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  posted on 11/22/2007 at 11:02 PM
The Great Mandala (from the 1700 Album by Peter, Paul and Mary- beautifully performed I might add). Written by Albert Grossman, Mary Travers and Peter Yarrow.

So I told him that he'd better
Shut his mouth and do his job like a man
And he answered, Listen, Father, I will never kill another
He thinks he's better than his brother that died
What the hell does he think he's doing
To his father who brought him up right

Take your place on the great Mandela
As it moves through your brief moment of time
Win or lose now, you must choose now
And if you lose, you're only losing your life

Tell the jailer not to bother
With his meal of bread and water today
He is fasting till the killing's over
He thinks he's a prophet, but he's a coward
He's just playing a game, he can't do it, he can't change it
It's been going on for ten thousand years

Tell the people they are safe now: hunger stopped him
He lies still in his cell
Death had gagged his accusation
We are free now, we can kill now
We can hate now, we can end the world
We're not guilty: he was crazy
And it's been going on for ten thousand years

Take your place on the great Mandela
As it moves through your brief moment of time
Win or lose now, you must choose now
And if you lose, you're only losing your life

 

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  posted on 11/22/2007 at 11:05 PM
The all time greatest anti-war song is one no one ever thinks of (or knows of). "Some Mother's Son" by the Kinks from the great rock opera Arthur: No one could write poignant lyrics like Raymond Douglas Davies:

Some mothers son lies in a field
Someone has killed some mothers son today
Head blown up by some soldiers gun
While all the mothers stand and wait
Some mothers son aint coming home today
Some mothers son aint got no grave

Two soldiers fighting in a trench
One soldier glances up to see the sun
And dreams of games he played when he was young
And then his friend calls out his name
It stops his dream and as he turns his head
A second later he is dead

Some mothers son lies in a field
Back home they put his picture in a frame
But all dead soldiers look the same
While all the parents stand and wait
To meet their children coming home from school
Some mothers son is lying dead

Somewhere someone is crying
Someone is trying to be so brave
But still the world keeps turning
Though all the children have gone away

Some mothers son lies in a field
But in his mothers eyes he looks the same
As on the day he went away

They put his picture on the wall
They put flowers in the picture frame
Some mothers memory remains

 

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  posted on 11/22/2007 at 11:28 PM
Eve Of Destruction, by Barry McGuire -- the standardbearer to my ears -- absolutely timess lyrics -- lyrics which had quite an effect on this boy & still do

Military Madness, by Graham Nash

One More Parade, by Phil Ochs (good choice dutchoniell -- Phil Ochs was an unsurpassed commentator of the times)

 

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  posted on 11/23/2007 at 09:48 AM
Where have all the flowers gone?

Where have all the flowers gone,
Long time passing,
Where have all the flowers gone,
Long time ago
Where have all the flowers gone,
Young girls picked them every one
When will they ever learn
When will they ever learn

Where have all the young girls gone,
Long time passing,
Where have all the young girls gone,
Long time ago,
Where have all the young girls gone,
gone to young men every one
When will they ever learn
When will they ever learn

Where have all the young men gone,
Long time passing,
Where have all the young men gone,
Long time ago,
Where have all the young men gone,
gone to soldiers every one,
When will they ever learn
When will they ever learn

Where have all the soldiers gone,
Long time passing,
Where have all the soldiers gone,
Long time ago,
Where have all the soldiers gone,
Gone to graveyards every one
When will they ever learn
When will they ever learn

Where have all the graveyards gone,
Long time passing,
Where have all the graveyards gone,
Long time ago,
Where have all the graveyards gone,
Gone to flowers every one
When will they ever learn
When will they ever learn

 

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  posted on 11/23/2007 at 11:23 AM
GIVE ME AN "F"!!!!!
GIVE ME A "U"!!!!!!!
GIVE ME A "C"!!!!!!!
GIVE ME A.... (you get the idea...!)

1:
D
Come on all of you big strong men,
G
Uncle Sam needs your help again.
D
He's got himself in a terrible jam
G
Way down yonder in Vietnam
E7 A
So put down your books and pick up a gun,
D G
We're gonna have a whole lotta fun.

Chorus:
A7 A#7 D
And it's one, two, three,
D7 G
What are we fighting for?
D
Don't ask me, I don't give a damn,
G
Next stop is Vietnam;
A7 A#7 D
And it's five, six, seven,
D7 G
Open up the pearly gates,
E A
Well there ain't no time to wonder why,
D G
Whoopee! we're all gonna die.


2:
D
Come on generals, let's move fast;
G
Your big chance has come at last.
D
Gotta go out and get those reds
G
The only good commie is the one that's dead
E7 A
You know that peace can only be won
D G
When we've blown 'em all to kingdom come.

[Chorus]

3:
D
Come on Wall Street, don't move slow,
G
Why man, this is war au-go-go.
D
There's plenty good money to be made
G
Supplying the Army with the tools of the trade,
E7 A
Just hope and pray that if they drop the bomb,
D G
They drop it on the Viet Cong.

[Chorus]

4:
D
Come on mothers throughout the land,
G
Pack your boys off to Vietnam.
D
Come on fathers, don't hesitate,
G
Send your sons off before it's too late.
E7 A
You can be the first one on your block
D G
To have your boy come home in a box.

[Chorus]

 

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  posted on 11/23/2007 at 11:25 AM
Verse 1 Walk me out in the morning dew my honey,

Walk me out in the morning dew today.

I can't walk you out in the morning dew my honey,

I can't walk you out in the morning dew today.



Verse 2 I thought I heard a baby cry this morning,

I thought I heard a baby cry this today.

You didn't hear no baby cry this morning,

You didn't hear no baby cry today.



Verse 3 Where have all the people gone my honey,

Where have all the people gone today.

There's no need for you to be worrying about all those people,

You never see those people anyway.



Verse 4 I thought I heard a young man morn this morning,

I thought I heard a young man morn today.

I thought I heard a young man morn this morning,

I can't walk you out in the morning dew today.


Verse 5 Walk me out in the morning dew my honey,

Walk me out in the morning dew today.

I'll walk you out in the morning dew my honey,

I guess it doesn't matter anyway,I guess it doesn't matter anyway,

I guess it doesn't matter anyway, I guess it doesn't matter anyway,

I guess it doesn't matter anyway.

Favorite versions: 5/8/77 Barton Hall, Cornell U; 4/29/71 Fillmore East





[Edited on 11/23/2007 by BarrySmith]

 

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  posted on 11/23/2007 at 12:00 PM
"People sleep peaceably in their beds at night only because rough men stand ready to do violence on their behalf." George Orwell


Guess the truth just doesn't make quite as catchy a song.

 

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  posted on 11/23/2007 at 12:35 PM
I've always liked Dylan's "With God on our Side."

 

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  posted on 11/23/2007 at 12:39 PM
For What It's Worth by Buffalo Springfield

There's something happening here
What it is ain't exactly clear
There's a man with a gun over there
Telling me I got to beware
I think it's time we stop, children, what's that sound
Everybody look what's going down
There's battle lines being drawn
Nobody's right if everybody's wrong
Young people speaking their minds
Getting so much resistance from behind
I think it's time we stop, hey, what's that sound
Everybody look what's going down
What a field-day for the heat
A thousand people in the street
Singing songs and carrying signs
Mostly say, hooray for our side
It's time we stop, hey, what's that sound
Everybody look what's going down
Paranoia strikes deep
Into your life it will creep
It starts when you're always afraid
You step out of line, the man come and take you away
We better stop, hey, what's that sound
Everybody look what's going down
Stop, hey, what's that sound
Everybody look what's going down
Stop, now, what's that sound
Everybody look what's going down
Stop, children, what's that sound
Everybody look what's going down

or Gimmie Shelter By the Rolling Stones

Oh, a storm is threatning
My very life today
If I dont get some shelter
Oh yeah, Im gonna fade away

War, children, its just a shot away
Its just a shot away
War, children, its just a shot away
Its just a shot away

Ooh, see the fire is sweepin
Our very street today
Burns like a red coal carpet
Mad bull lost its way

War, children, its just a shot away
Its just a shot away
War, children, its just a shot away
Its just a shot away

Rape, murder!
Its just a shot away
Its just a shot away

Rape, murder!
Its just a shot away
Its just a shot away

Rape, murder!
Its just a shot away
Its just a shot away

The floods is threatning
My very life today
Gimme, gimme shelter
Or Im gonna fade away

War, children, its just a shot away
Its just a shot away
Its just a shot away
Its just a shot away
Its just a shot away
I tell you love, sister, its just a kiss away
Its just a kiss away
Its just a kiss away
Its just a kiss away
Its just a kiss away
Kiss away, kiss away


[Edited on 11/23/2007 by crossroads24]

 

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  posted on 11/23/2007 at 12:52 PM


I Don't Want To Be A Soldier
John Lennon


Well, I don't wanna be a soldier mama, I don't wanna die
Well, I don't wanna be a sailor mama, I don't wanna fly
Well, I don't wanna be a failure mama, I don't wanna cry
Well, I don't wanna be a soldier mama, I don't wanna die
Oh no, oh no, oh no, oh no

Well, I don't wanna be a rich man mama, I don't wanna cry
Well, I don't wanna be a poor man mama, I don't wanna fly
Well, I don't wanna be a lawyer mama, I don't wanna lie
Well, I don't wanna be a soldier mama, I don't wanna die
Oh no, oh no, oh no, oh no, hey!

Well, I don't wanna be a soldier mama, I don't wanna die
Well, I don't wanna be a thief now mama, I don't wanna fly
Well, I don't wanna be a churchman mama, I don't wanna cry
Well, I don't wanna be a soldier mama, I don't wanna die
Oh no, oh no, oh no, oh no, oh no, hey!

Oh well, I don't wanna be a soldier mama, I don't wanna die
Well, I don't wanna be a sailor mama, I don't wanna fly
Well, I don't wanna be a failure mama, I don't wanna cry
Well, I don't wanna be a soldier mama, I don't wanna die
Oh no, oh no, oh no, oh no, oh no




 

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True Peach



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  posted on 11/23/2007 at 02:07 PM
SKY PILOT, by the Animals (unabridged version)

He blesses the boys
as they stand in line
the smell of gun grease
and their bayonets they shine
he's there to help them
all that he can
to make them feel wanted he's a good holy man

Sky Pilot
Sky Pilot
How high can you fly
you'll never never never reach the sky

He smiles at the young soldiers, tells them it's alright
he knows of their fear in the forthcoming fight
soon there'll be blood
and many will die
mothers and fathers back home they will cry

(Chorus)

He mumbles a prayer
and it ends with a smile
the order is given
they move down the line
but HE STAY'LL* behind
and he'll meditate
but it won't stop the bleeding
or ease the hate

As the young men move out into the battle zone
He feels good, with God you're never alone
He feels so tired and he lays on his bed
Hopes the men will find courage in the words that he said

(Chorus)

Your soldiers have gone
you must understand
the fate of your country is in on your hands
May God give you strength
do your job real well
if it all was worth it
only time it will tell

In the morning they return
with tears in their eyes
the stench of death
drifts up to the sky
a young soldier's so ill
looks at the Sky Pilot
remembers the words
Thou Shalt Not Kill

(Chorus)

The full 7-8 minute LP version of this is very powerful -- with the sounds of tracers flying overhead, horrendous plane crashes, and funereal bagpipe-and-violin music

Religion is often at the center of wars -- this song, portraying the wartime role of a man of the cloth, I always found...very strange

*I only put that by the capitalized letters because I always found it interesting that they left that vocal gaffe just as it was -- "he stay'll"

 

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  posted on 11/23/2007 at 02:11 PM
Pink Floyd "Us And Them"

Us, and them
And after all were only ordinary men.
Me, and you.
God only knows its noz what we would choose to do.
Forward he cried from the rear
And the front rank died.
And the general sat and the lines on the map
Moved from side to side.
Black and blue
And who knows which is which and who is who.
Up and down.
But in the end its only round and round.
Havent you heard its a battle of words
The poster bearer cried.
Listen son, said the man with the gun
Theres room for you inside.

Down and out
It cant be helped but theres a lot of it about.
With, without.
And wholl deny its what the fightings all about?
Out of the way, its a busy day
Ive got things on my mind.
For the want of the price of tea and a slice
The old man died.

 

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  posted on 11/23/2007 at 02:24 PM
"I guess, in your mind, that justifies every war"

No

 

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  posted on 11/23/2007 at 02:24 PM
Leaving Beirut - Roger Waters

So we left Beirut Willa and I
He headed East to Baghdad and the rest of it
I set out North
I walked the five or six miles to the last of the street lamps
And hunkered in the curb side dusk
Holding out my thumb
In no great hope at the ramshackle procession of home bound traffic
Success!
An ancient Mercedes 'dolmus '
The ubiquitous, Arab, shared taxi drew up
I turned out my pockets and shrugged at the driver
" J'ai pas de l'argent "
" Venez! " A soft voice from the back seat
The driver lent wearily across and pushed open the back door
I stooped to look inside at the two men there
One besuited, bespectacled, moustached, irritated, distant, late
The other, the one who had spoken,
Frail, fifty five-ish, bald, sallow, in a short sleeved pale blue cotton shirt
With one biro in the breast pocket
A clerk maybe, slightly sunken in the seat
"Venez!" He said again, and smiled
"Mais j'ai pas de l'argent"
"Oui, Oui, d'accord, Venez!"

Are these the people that we should bomb
Are we so sure they mean us harm
Is this our pleasure, punishment or crime
Is this a mountain that we really want to climb
The road is hard, hard and long
Put down that two by four
This man would never turn you from his door
Oh George! Oh George!
That Texas education must have **** ed you up when you were very small

He beckoned with a small arthritic motion of his hand
Fingers together like a child waving goodbye
The driver put my old Hofner guitar in the boot with my rucksack
And off we went
" Vous etes Francais, monsieur? "
" Non, Anglais "
" Ah! Anglais "
" Est-ce que vous parlais Anglais, Monsieur? "
"Non, je regrette"
And so on
In small talk between strangers, his French alien but correct
Mine halting but eager to please
A lift, after all, is a lift
Late moustache left us brusquely
And some miles later the dolmus slowed at a crossroads lit by a single lightbulb
Swung through a U-turn and stopped in a cloud of dust
I opened the door and got out
But my benefactor made no move to follow
The driver dumped my guitar and rucksack at my feet
And waving away my thanks returned to the boot
Only to reappear with a pair of alloy crutches
Which he leaned against the rear wing of the Mercedes.
He reached into the car and lifted my companion out
Only one leg, the second trouser leg neatly pinned beneath a vacant hip
" Monsieur, si vous voulez, ca sera un honneur pour nous
Si vous venez avec moi a la maison pour manger avec ma femme "

When I was 17 my mother, bless her heart, fulfilled my summer dream
She handed me the keys to the car
We motored down to Paris, fuelled with Dexedrine and booze
Got bust in Antibes by the cops
And fleeced in Naples by the wops
But everyone was kind to us, we were the English dudes
Our dads had helped them win the war
When we all knew what we were fighting for
But now an Englishman abroad is just a US stooge
The bulldog is a poodle snapping round the scoundrel's last refuge

"Ma femme", thank God! Monopod but not queer
The taxi drove off leaving us in the dim light of the swinging bulb
No building in sight
What the hell
"Merci monsieur"
"Bon, Venez!"
His faced creased in pleasure, he set off in front of me
Swinging his leg between the crutches with agonising care
Up the dusty side road into the darkness
After half an hour we'd gone maybe half a mile
When on the right I made out the low profile of a building
He called out in Arabic to announce our arrival
And after some scuffling inside a lamp was lit
And the changing angle of light in the wide crack under the door
Signalled the approach of someone within
The door creaked open and there, holding a biblical looking oil lamp
Stood a squat, moustached woman, stooped smiling up at us
She stood aside to let us in and as she turned
I saw the reason for her stoop
She carried on her back a shocking hump
I nodded and smiled back at her in greeting, fighting for control
The gentleness between the one-legged man and his monstrous wife
Almost too much for me

Is gentleness too much for us
Should gentleness be filed along with empathy
We feel for someone else's child
Every time a smart bomb does its sums and gets it wrong
Someone else's child dies and equities in defence rise
America, America, please hear us when we call
You got hip-hop, be-bop, hustle and bustle
You got Atticus Finch
You got Jane Russell
You got freedom of speech
You got great beaches, wildernesses and malls
Don't let the might, the Christian right, **** it all up
For you and the rest of the world

They talked excitedly
She went to take his crutches in routine of care
He chiding, gestured
We have a guest
She embarrassed by her faux pas
Took my things and laid them gently in the corner
"Du the?"
We sat on meagre cushions in one corner of the single room
The floor was earth packed hard and by one wall a raised platform
Some six foot by four covered by a simple sheet, the bed
The hunchback busied herself with small copper pots over an open hearth
And brought us tea, hot and sweet
And so to dinner
Flat, unleavened bread, + thin
Cooked in an iron skillet over the open hearth
Then folded and dipped into the soft insides of female sea urchins
My hostess did not eat, I ate her dinner
She would hear of nothing else, I was their guest
And then she retired behind a curtain
And left the men to sit drinking thimbles full of Arak
Carefully poured from a small bottle with a faded label
Soon she reappeared, radiant
Carrying in her arms their pride and joy, their child.
I'd never seen a squint like that
So severe that as one eye looked out the other disappeared behind its nose

Not in my name, Tony, you great war leader you
Terror is still terror, whosoever gets to frame the rules
History's not written by the vanquished or the damned
Now we are Genghis Khan, Lucretia Borghia, Son of Sam
In 1961 they took this child into their home
I wonder what became of them
In the cauldron that was Lebanon
If I could find them now, could I make amends?
How does the story end?

And so to bed, me that is, not them
Of course they slept on the floor behind a curtain
Whilst I lay awake all night on their earthen bed
Then came the dawn and then their quiet stirrings
Careful not to wake the guest
I yawned in great pretence
And took the proffered bowl of water heated up and washed
And sipped my coffee in its tiny cup
And then with much "merci-ing" and bowing and shaking of hands
We left the woman to her chores
And we men made our way back to the crossroads
The painful slowness of our progress accentuated by the brilliant morning light
The dolmus duly reappeared
My host gave me one crutch and leaning on the other
Shook my hand and smiled
"Merci, monsieur," I said
" De rien "
" And merci a votre femme, elle est tres gentille "
Giving up his other crutch
He allowed himself to be folded into the back seat again
"Bon voyage, monsieur," he said
And half bowed as the taxi headed south towards the city
I turned North, my guitar over my shoulder
And the first hot gust of wind
Quickly dried the salt tears from my young cheeks.

 

____________________
"Come on down to the Mermaid Cafe and I will buy you a bottle of wine, and we'll laugh and toast to nothing and smash our empty glasses down..."

 
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