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21 Feb 03 - 03:44 AM (#894986) Subject: Lyr Req: Farewell to Pripyat From: GUEST,Flying Scotsman Can anyone provide lyrics for this song which was written by Tim Dennehy but popularised by Christy Moore some years ago. It is about the City of Pripyat (sometimes transcribed as Pripchat) which was completely abandoned following the disastrous fire at the Chernobyl nuclear complex in the Ukraine. |
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04 Mar 03 - 12:07 AM (#902917) Subject: Lyr Add: FAREWELL TO PRIPYAT / PRIPCHAT (Dennehy) From: Jim Dixon "Farewell to Pripyat" performed by the author, Tim Dennehy, appears on 2 collections: "My Lovely Ireland," 1999; and "My Lovely Irish Maid: Traditional [sic] Irish Songs," 1998. Under the title, "Farewell to Pripchat," it was also recorded by John McDermott on "Old Friends," 1999; and by Christy Moore on "Voyage," 1989. In both cases, credit is given to Dennehy. These lyrics are copied from a John McDermott fan site: FAREWELL TO PRIPCHAT (Tim Dennehy) It was a Friday in April 1986, The day that nightmare begun, When the dust it fell down on our buildings and streets, And entered our buildings at noon, Touched the grass and trees, bicycles, cars, Beds, books and picture frames too. We stood around helpless, confused. Nobody knew what to do. At two o'clock on Sunday, the buses arrived, A fleet of a thousand or more. We were ordered to be on our way, Not knowing what lay in store. Some of our citizens fled in dismay, And looked for a good place to hide. When four o'clock came and the last bus pulled out, 'Twas the day that our lively town died. CHORUS: And the shirts, sheets and handkerchiefs cracks in the wind, On the window ledge the withering plants, And the Ladas and Volgas are parked by the door, And the bike's in its usual stance. Our evergreen tree lies withered and drooped. They've poisoned our fertile land. The streets speak a deafening silence. Nothing stirs but the sand. A visit back home is so eerie today, A modern Pompeii in view, To see all the old shops and the Forest Hotel, And the Promyet cinema too. The mementos we gathered all left behind, Our photos and letters and cards. The toys of our children untouchable now, Toy soldiers left standing on guard. So fare thee well, Pripchat, my home and my soul. Your sorrow can know no relief. A terrifying glimpse of the future you show. Your children all scattered like geese. The clothesline still sways but the owner's long gone, As the nomadic era returns. The questions in black and white blurred into grey; The answer is too easy to learn. |