The Invader

Peggy Seeger
Language: English

Parole e musica di Peggy Seeger
Nell’album “Hot Blast”, con Ewan MacColl

Hot Blast

Una canzone contro il nucleare, civile e militare…
On the first six days we lived in trees,
We hunted, farmed, made bread and cheese,
We forged and built, white black and brown
The kingdom of man in Eden's ground -
And when we'd made our heaven and hell
On the seventh day we killed ourselves.

On the first six days we fought with rocks,
With slings and bows and firelocks;
Eye tor eye, pound for pound,
We took our wars to another man's ground;
On the seventh day our kith and kin
Welcomed the dread invader in.

He has no sound, no sight, no smell,
No reason at all on earth to dwell,
He has no mind to call his own,
His nature is made by man alone;
You need a machine to know he's there
In wind and water, food or air.

He does the work of coal and oil
But no-one wants him on their soil;
He is not made in nightly stealth,
He's made to increase worldly wealth,
And when his useful life is done
They'll pay the earth to see him gone.

He comes by ship, he comes by plane,
He comes in trucks, he comes on trains,
We all take tablets every week
In case they crash or they find a leak;
The children know about spent-fuel
Even before they go to school.

Police and soldiers everywhere,
You're never alone, anywhere;
They watch your post, they tap your phone,
They check your past and they search your home;
They give us a pass, forbid us arms,
In case we mean the invader harm.

The invader lives where the jobs are few,
It runs itself, little to do.
Our men work there because it's near,
Replaced by the death-rate every year;
The poison gases overhang,
Then blow away to another man's land.

They pack him into glass and steel
Then away in secret to conceal
In oceans, mountains, desert holes,
As if they were hiding their own black souls;
But someday, somewhere, he’ll get out
And bring his makers to account.

On the seventh day, we've proved our worth
As a nuclear dustbin for the earth,
A fitting end: to set the pace
For a way of life that depends on waste;
When our children's children bear the scar,
They'll curse us for the fools we are.

Contributed by Bernart Bartleby - 2018/5/3 - 14:43

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