I saw an ancient picture
Of a young girl
Who just ran
Clothed in fire
And dressed in anguish
The fine handiwork of man
And I thought
That it was all over now
And the lessons
Had been learned
But the sky still falls
And Fathers weep….
And the young girl, she still burns
And it's "Hey, Johnny boy
Where're you marching to
With your gun cradled in your hand?
"Hey, Johnny boy,
Where's the finish line?
At the Gates of the Promised Land?
At the Gates of the Promised Land…
Once more
We hear our master's call
As in centuries before
Caesars, Kings and Emperors
Summoned us to war
And the turtle's voice
Cannot be heard
And the singing birds are dumb
And the vineyards stink of cordite...
Where Abraham was born.
And it's Hey, Johnny boy
Where're you marching to
With your gun cradled in your hand ?
Hey, Johnny boy,
Where's the finish line?
At the Gates of the Promised Land ?
At the Gates of the Promised Land…?
How long
Before they take your youth
As they've done oft-times before
And they tell you
It's a noble thing
To fight on foreign shores
And it's true
Sometimes there's little choice
And a struggle must be won
But is it Liberty you're dying for
Or just the grease that oils the guns?
And it's Hey, Johnny boy
Where're you marching to
With your gun cradled in your hand?
Hey, Johnny boy,
Where's the finish line?
At the Gates of the Promised Land ?
At the Gates of the Promised Land…?
Of a young girl
Who just ran
Clothed in fire
And dressed in anguish
The fine handiwork of man
And I thought
That it was all over now
And the lessons
Had been learned
But the sky still falls
And Fathers weep….
And the young girl, she still burns
And it's "Hey, Johnny boy
Where're you marching to
With your gun cradled in your hand?
"Hey, Johnny boy,
Where's the finish line?
At the Gates of the Promised Land?
At the Gates of the Promised Land…
Once more
We hear our master's call
As in centuries before
Caesars, Kings and Emperors
Summoned us to war
And the turtle's voice
Cannot be heard
And the singing birds are dumb
And the vineyards stink of cordite...
Where Abraham was born.
And it's Hey, Johnny boy
Where're you marching to
With your gun cradled in your hand ?
Hey, Johnny boy,
Where's the finish line?
At the Gates of the Promised Land ?
At the Gates of the Promised Land…?
How long
Before they take your youth
As they've done oft-times before
And they tell you
It's a noble thing
To fight on foreign shores
And it's true
Sometimes there's little choice
And a struggle must be won
But is it Liberty you're dying for
Or just the grease that oils the guns?
And it's Hey, Johnny boy
Where're you marching to
With your gun cradled in your hand?
Hey, Johnny boy,
Where's the finish line?
At the Gates of the Promised Land ?
At the Gates of the Promised Land…?
inviata da giorgio - 6/6/2013 - 09:02
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Lyrics & Music by Bob Leslie
Glasgow-based Bob Leslie -a self-confessed old hippy- has been in the music biz, pro and semi-pro, for the last 40 years.
This song, on which Alex Mac plays mandolin, is about the Iraq war.