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CLAUDY (James Simmons) The Sperrins surround it. The Faughan flows by. At each end of Main Street, the hills and the sky. The small town of Claudy at ease in the sun, Last July in the morning, a new day begun. How peaceful and pretty, if the moment could stop! McIlhenny is straightening things in his shop. His wife is outside serving petrol, and then A child takes a cloth to a big windowpane. And McCloskey is taking the weight off his feet. McClelland and Miller are sweeping the street. Delivering milk at the Beaufort Hotel, Young Temple's enjoying his first job quite well. And Mrs. McLaughlin is scrubbing her floor. Artie Hone's crossing the street to a door. Mrs. Brown, looking around for her cat, Goes off up an entry. What's strange about that? Not much, but before she comes back to the road, The strange car parked outside her house will explode, And all of the people I've mentioned outside Will be waiting to die, or already have died. An explosion too loud for your eardrums to bear -- Young children squealing like pigs in the square. All faces chalk-white, or streaked with bright red, And the glass, and the dust, and the terrible dead. For an old lady's legs are blown off, and the head Of a man's hanging open, and still he's not dead. He is shrieking for mercy while his son stands and stares, And stares, and then suddenly - quick - disappears. And Christ, little Katherine Aiken is dead, And Mrs. McLaughlin is pierced through the head. Meanwhile, to Dungiven the killers have gone, And they're finding it hard to get through on the phone. (Repeat first verse.) This ballad by Ulster poet-singer-songwriter James Simmons (1933-2001) commemora tes those who died in a no-warning bomb explosion in the village of Claudy in 19 72. @Irish @war @terrorism filename[ CLAUDDY SKW |
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