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• Artiste: Black 47
• Titre: Black 47
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Everything is still Not a chicken, not a body Just an awful sickenin' silence, roarin' in my brain And the fog of death deepens, and lies upon the land An old one rolls over on her back The grass stains still green upon her chin I can still hear her keenin' and screamin' in the wind There's no love left on Earth And God is dead in heaven In these dark and deadly days of Black 47 God's curse upon you, Lord Trevelyan May your great Queen Victoria rot in hell Till England and its Empire Answer under heaven For the crimes they committed in Black 47 Paudie said: "C'mon now, Don't look back; she's not livin'; she's a phantom And she'll curse us if we look into her eyes." Oh God, I think I'm dyin'; the fever's in my brain For can't you see that pack of children up ahead? The beards of old men sproutin' from their chins Can't you hear their screams of hunger in the wind? Darlin' Paudie, save me I think I'm sinkin' fast Me blood is boilin' Don't let me die here, in a ditch If the hunger doesn't get me, the fever surely will Paudie took me up and threw me 'cross his shoulder He nursed me everyday till we reached Amerikay Screamin' and shoutin' like two madmen in the wind