My youngest son

Può sembrare la fine di una storia d'amore, ma non è proprio così: è il dialogo tra un uomo morente e sua madre, nella prigione di Maze durante gli scioperi della fame.

THE TIME HAS COME (D. Lunny-C. Moore)
The time has come to part my love
I must go away
I'll leave you now my darling girl
no longer can I stay
My heart like yours is breaking
together we'll prove strong
the road I'll take will show the world
the suffering that goes on

The gentle clasp that holds my hand
must loosen and let go
Please help me through that door
though instinct tells you no
Our wow it is eternal
and will bring you dreadful pain
but if our demands aren't recognized
don't call me back again

How their sorrow touched us all
in those final days
when it was time she held the door
and touched his sallow face
the flame he lit while leaving
is still burning strong
by the light it's plain to see
the suffering still goes on...and on

OT OT OT !!!
Avevo in mente di postarne un'altra che non tratta del nord e non proviene neanche da lì. Anche se non mi interessa la musica di Mary Coughlan, stò per postare un testo dal suo repertorio. Ci sono elencate un po' di magagne irlandesi, partendo dall'aborto: a typical irish solution to an irish problem.

My land is too green

my land is bogged down in religious tradition
we nod our heads in humble submission
one foot in the door
a hand in your pocket
we export our problems for foreign solutions

my land is naive
too scared of the devil
holier than thou
with eyes up to heaven
when nobody looks
we tear strips off our neighbours
and have a good laugh at it all in the end

shrouded in mist
the outlook's appalling
pressure is rising and temperature's falling
sunny spells and scattered showers
and still it rains for hours and hours
as the floods rise we drown our sorrows
tossing them back like there is no tomorrow
and in the end we'll sit or stand
and piss it back into the bogholes of Ireland

my land is too fond of incurable scheming
the promises given are nothing but dreaming
we all love a rogue
we'll make him our leader
but every few years we're right back to zero

my land is still poor and underdeveloped
we talk around our problems for hours on end
and then we decide there's two sides to the story
and have a good laugh at it all in the end