|
17 Jan 97 - 02:16 AM (#1393) Subject: Christy Moore's lyrics REQ From: Ezio - somewhere in Italy HI!
I'd like to have the lyrics of a Christy Moores's song - it's on the album RIDE ON.
Thank you all! Back Home In Derry in the Digital Tradition. |
|
17 Jan 97 - 03:32 PM (#1405) Subject: Lyr Add: BACK HOME IN DERRY (Bobby Sands) From: In 1803 we sailed out to sea Out from the sweet town of Derry For Australia bound if we didn't all drown And the marks of our fetters we carried. In the rusty iron chains we sighed for our weans As our good wives we left in sorrow. As the main sails unfurled our curses we hurled On the English and thoughts of tomorrow. CHORUS: Oh, oh, oh, oh, I wish I was back home in Derry. Oh, oh, oh, oh, I wish I was back home in Derry. I cursed them to hell as our bow fought the swell. Our ship danced like a moth in the firelights. White horses rode high as the devil passed by Taking souls to Hades by twilight. Five weeks out to sea we were now forty-three Our comrades we buried each morning. In our own slime we were lost in a time Endless night without dawning. CHORUS Van Dieman's Land is a hell for a man To live out his life in slavery. When the climate is raw and the gun makes the law. Neither wind nor rain cares for bravery. Twenty years have gone by and I've ended me bond And comrades' ghosts are behind me. A rebel I came and I'll die the same. On the cold winds of night you will find me. CHORUS |
|
18 Jan 97 - 03:53 AM (#1420) Subject: RE: Christy Moore's lyrics REQ From: bottarel@ipruniv.cce.unipr.it THANK YOU ANONYMOUS BENEFACTOR for sending the lyrics! Ezio |
|
16 Feb 97 - 10:09 AM (#2270) Subject: RE: Christy Moore's lyrics REQ From: Alan R Although recorded by Christy, the lyrics were written by the late Bobby Sands, one of the Irish republicans who died on hunger strike in a British jail. He was also, briefly, an MP. |
|
16 Feb 97 - 06:52 PM (#2285) Subject: RE: Christy Moore's lyrics REQ From: Alison Your anonymous benefactor left out verse 2. At the mouth of the Foyle, bade fareweel to the soil As down below decks we were lyin', O'Doherty screamed woken out of a dream By a vision of bold Robert dyin', The sun burnt cruel as we dished out the gruel, Dan O'Connor was down with a fever, Sixty rebels today bound for Botany Bay, How many will reach their receiver?
|