Black 47
Black 47
Everything is stillNot a chicken, not a bodyJust an awful sickenin' silence, roarin' in my brainAnd the fog of death deepens, and lies upon the landAn old one rolls over on her backThe grass stains still green upon her chinI can still hear her keenin' and screamin' in the windThere's no love left on EarthAnd God is dead in heavenIn these dark and deadly days of Black 47God's curse upon you, Lord TrevelyanMay your great Queen Victoria rot in hellTill England and its EmpireAnswer under heavenFor the crimes they committed in Black 47Paudie said: "C'mon now,Don't look back; she's not livin'; she's a phantomAnd she'll curse us if we look into her eyes."Oh God, I think I'm dyin'; the fever's in my brainFor can't you see that pack of children up ahead?The beards of old men sproutin' from their chinsCan't you hear their screams of hunger in the wind?Darlin' Paudie, save meI think I'm sinkin' fastMe blood is boilin'Don't let me die here, in a ditchIf the hunger doesn't get me, the fever surely willPaudie took me up and threw me 'cross his shoulderHe nursed me everyday till we reached AmerikayScreamin' and shoutin' like two madmen in the wind
From Letras Mania