Rain falls upon the Easter Tree, the squirrel shakes his head
And shivers in his red and sodden fur
The wind and water flatten out his ears and force his streaming eyes to close
The smell of death is heavy in his nose
The sun dries out the Easter Tree, the rabbit looks around
Sees a shadow on the ground and runs for home
A songbird finds a strange and novel perch to shout his challenge to the day
The hair beneath his feet is turning grey
Yes a man hangs from the Easter Tree, his death bed is a rope
Or strong nails have killed his hopes of climbing down
His jaws are locked in agony, or open for the flies to come and go
His eyes are in the belly of the crow
A dog sits by the Easter Tree, beneath the naked heels
His master or his meal will surely fall
When the rope is broken by the wind, or the rusty nails release their withered load
Then the dog, well fed, continues down the road
Bones lie beneath the Easter Tree, the skulls now full of sand
Could never understand the reason why
The thread of life was broken by a hand that never cared to know their names
They played and lost in someone else’s game
The leaves upon the Easter Tree are red with human blood
Since justice chose the wood to make a sword
For when a man was hanged at Tyburn Tree, or crucified along the road to Rome
His blood and tears have stained the face of stone
And shivers in his red and sodden fur
The wind and water flatten out his ears and force his streaming eyes to close
The smell of death is heavy in his nose
The sun dries out the Easter Tree, the rabbit looks around
Sees a shadow on the ground and runs for home
A songbird finds a strange and novel perch to shout his challenge to the day
The hair beneath his feet is turning grey
Yes a man hangs from the Easter Tree, his death bed is a rope
Or strong nails have killed his hopes of climbing down
His jaws are locked in agony, or open for the flies to come and go
His eyes are in the belly of the crow
A dog sits by the Easter Tree, beneath the naked heels
His master or his meal will surely fall
When the rope is broken by the wind, or the rusty nails release their withered load
Then the dog, well fed, continues down the road
Bones lie beneath the Easter Tree, the skulls now full of sand
Could never understand the reason why
The thread of life was broken by a hand that never cared to know their names
They played and lost in someone else’s game
The leaves upon the Easter Tree are red with human blood
Since justice chose the wood to make a sword
For when a man was hanged at Tyburn Tree, or crucified along the road to Rome
His blood and tears have stained the face of stone
envoyé par The Lone Ranger - 6/5/2010 - 08:59
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Scritta da Dave Goulder e inclusa anche nel suo album “The January Man” del 1986.
Quella dell’albero pasquale è un’antica tradizione che ha origine in Svezia e che si è diffusa poi in tutto il nord Europa e in nord America. Ma in questa canzone l’Easter Tree non è che un agghiacciante patibolo, quel “Gallows Tree” o “Tyburn Tree”, come anticamente veniva chiamata la forca con riferimento a quella zona di Londra, vicino a Marble Arch, dove dal 16mo secolo cominciarono a tenersi le esecuzioni capitali mediante impiccagione.
A pendere da questo albero di Pasqua non sono uova colorate ma un davvero Strange Fruit…