The storm clouds hang on the hill
The thunder rolls through the plain
But there goes that little bird
She winging her way through the rain.
The buzzard stirs in the gloom
The jackal stalks thru the shade
But clearing the dim edge of doom
The dove makes her way unafraid.
There goes the dove on thru the day
There goes that little bird winging her way
Over the dove, way up on high
There is a rainbow spanning the sky
Over the dove, way up on high
There is a rainbow spanning the sky
The rocket lights up the way
And sears her wing with its flame
And night burns as bright as the day
The dove soars along just the same.
The guns sound off with a blast
And snarl at the dove on its course
But there she goes faithfully past
And braves the full burst of the force.
There she goes on thru the day
There goes that little bird
Winging her way.
Over the dove, way up on high
There is e rainbow
Spanning the sky
Over the dove, way up on high
There is e rainbow
Spanning the sky.
The people stir on the land
They lift up their face to the sky
To see if the dove is at hand
And watch her go breathlessly by.
The father stands with his son
The sister and brother are there
They lift up their heads everyone
The sound of their voice fills the air.
There she goes on thru the day
There goes that little bird
Winging her way.
Over the dove, way up on high
There is e rainbow
Spanning the sky
Over the dove, way up on high
There is e rainbow
Spanning the sky.
The mother rich with her child
The lover lost in her love
To welcome the feathery, mild
The sure, the invincible dove.
And dream of such things to be
The wind at peace with the waves
And the land at peace with the see
And the brave at peace with the brave.
There she goes on thru the day
There goes that little bird
Winging her way.
Over the dove, way up on high
There is e rainbow
Spanning the sky
Over the dove, way up on high
There is e rainbow
Spanning the sky.
The thunder rolls through the plain
But there goes that little bird
She winging her way through the rain.
The buzzard stirs in the gloom
The jackal stalks thru the shade
But clearing the dim edge of doom
The dove makes her way unafraid.
There goes the dove on thru the day
There goes that little bird winging her way
Over the dove, way up on high
There is a rainbow spanning the sky
Over the dove, way up on high
There is a rainbow spanning the sky
The rocket lights up the way
And sears her wing with its flame
And night burns as bright as the day
The dove soars along just the same.
The guns sound off with a blast
And snarl at the dove on its course
But there she goes faithfully past
And braves the full burst of the force.
There she goes on thru the day
There goes that little bird
Winging her way.
Over the dove, way up on high
There is e rainbow
Spanning the sky
Over the dove, way up on high
There is e rainbow
Spanning the sky.
The people stir on the land
They lift up their face to the sky
To see if the dove is at hand
And watch her go breathlessly by.
The father stands with his son
The sister and brother are there
They lift up their heads everyone
The sound of their voice fills the air.
There she goes on thru the day
There goes that little bird
Winging her way.
Over the dove, way up on high
There is e rainbow
Spanning the sky
Over the dove, way up on high
There is e rainbow
Spanning the sky.
The mother rich with her child
The lover lost in her love
To welcome the feathery, mild
The sure, the invincible dove.
And dream of such things to be
The wind at peace with the waves
And the land at peace with the see
And the brave at peace with the brave.
There she goes on thru the day
There goes that little bird
Winging her way.
Over the dove, way up on high
There is e rainbow
Spanning the sky
Over the dove, way up on high
There is e rainbow
Spanning the sky.
envoyé par Bernart Bartleby - 18/8/2015 - 09:37
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Parole di David I. Arkin (1906-1980), insegnante, pittore, scrittore e liricista, padre dell’attore Alan Arkin.
Misica di Waldemar Hille (1908-1995), pianista e compositore, direttore musicale della First Unitarian Church, amico di Pete Seeger e Paul Robeson.
Testo pubblicato su Broadside #7 del giugno 1962
Registrata da Pete Seeger in “Broadsides - Songs and Ballads”, Folkways Records, 1964.
Da ricordare che l’autore di questa canzone, David I. Arkin, nel secondo dopoguerra fu una delle tante vittime della “witch hunt” anticomunista scatenata da quell’ubriacone del senatore McCarthy.
Arkin, che era un insegnante, perse il lavoro e non fu mai in grado di recuperarlo, nonostante i ripetuti ricorsi. Fu riabilitato solo dopo la sua morte, avvenuta per un cancro nel 1980.
Anche suo figlio Alan è stato un attore scomodo: si pensi ai suoi esordi in “The Russians Are Coming, the Russians Are Coming” (diretto da Norman Jewison nel 1966), film parodistico della guerra fredda, e “Catch-22” (diretto da Mike Nichols nel 1970), uno dei film più ferocemente antimilitaristi nella storia del cinema.