There’s an inner thing in every man,
Do you know this thing my friend?
It has withstood the blows of a million years,
And will do so to the end.
It was born when time did not exist,
And it grew up out of life,
It cut down evil’s strangling vines,
Like a slashing searing knife.
It lit fires when fires were not,
And burnt the mind of man,
Tempering leadened hearts to steel,
From the time that time began.
It wept by the waters of Babylon,
And when all men were a loss,
It screeched in writhing agony,
And it hung bleeding from the Cross.
It died in Rome by lion and sword,
And in defiant cruel array,
When the deathly word was ‘Spartacus’
Along the Appian Way.
It marched with Wat the Tyler’s poor,
And frightened lord and king,
And it was emblazoned in their deathly stare,
As e’er a living thing.
It smiled in holy innocence,
Before conquistadors of old,
So meek and tame and unaware,
Of the deathly power of gold.
It burst forth through pitiful Paris streets,
And stormed the old Bastille,
And marched upon the serpent’s head,
And crushed it ‘neath its heel.
It died in blood on Buffalo Plains,
And starved by moons of rain,
Its heart was buried in Wounded Knee,
But it will come to rise again.
It screamed aloud by Kerry lakes,
As it was knelt upon the ground,
And it died in great defiance,
As they coldly shot it down.
It is found in every light of hope,
It knows no bounds nor space
It has risen in red and black and white,
It is there in every race.
It lies in the hearts of heroes dead,
It screams in tyrants’ eyes,
It has reached the peak of mountains high,
It comes searing ‘cross the skies.
It lights the dark of this prison cell,
It thunders forth its might,
It is ‘the undauntable thought’, my friend,
That thought that says ‘I’m right!’
Is similar, different:
Revolution
http://www.dickgaughan.co.uk/songs/texts/revolutn.html
Words : Joseph Bovshover / Music : Dick Gaughan
“I come like a comet new born
Like the sun that arises at morning
I come like the furious tempest
That follows a thundercloud’s warning
I come like the fiery lava
From cloud-covered mountains volcanic
I come like a storm from the north
That the oceans awake to in panic
I come because tyranny planted
My seed in the hot desert sand
I come because masters have kindled
My fury with every command
I come because man cannot murder
The life-giving seed in his veins
I come because liberty cannot
Forever be fettered by chains
I come because tyrants imagine
That mankind is only their throne
I come because peace has been nourished
By bullets and cannon alone
I come because one world is two
And we face one another with rage
I come because guards have been posted
To keep out the hope of the age
From earliest times the oppressed
Have awaked me and called me to lead them
I guided them out of enslavement
And brought them to high roads of freedom
I marched at the head of their legions
And hailed a new world at its birth
And now I shall march with the peoples
Until they unfetter the earth
And you, all you sanctified moneybags
Bandits anointed and crowned
Your counterfeit towers of justice
And ethics will crash to the ground
I’ll send my good sword through your hearts
That have drained the world’s blood in their lust
Smash all your crowns and your sceptres
And trample them into the dust
I’ll rip off your rich purple garments
And tear them to rags and to shreds
Never again will their glitter
Be able to turn people’s heads
At last your cold world will be robbed of
It’s proud hypocritical glow
For we shall dissolve it as surely
As sunlight dissolves the deep snow
I’ll tear down your cobweb morality
Shatter the old chain of lies
Catch all your blackhooded preachers
And choke them as though they were flies
I’ll put a quick end to your heavens
Your gods that are deaf to all prayer
Scatter your futile old spirits
And clean up the earth and the air
And though you may choke me and shoot me
And hang me your toil is in vain
No dungeon, no gallows can scare me
Nor will I be frightened by pain
Each time I’ll arise from the earth
And break through all your weapons of doom
Until you are finished forever
Until you are dust in the tomb
Song Notes
The text is a poem by Joseph Bovshover and is from ‘American Labour Songs of the 19th Century’. I wrote the music for it in (East) Berlin during the 1982 Festival of Political Song.”
Audio track:
Dick Gaughan – Revolution
https://m.youtube.com/watch?feature=youtu.be&v=2Nf1mtMMdt8
I wrote the music for it
You, vot tak, wrote this music?
Saker
Dick Gaughan wrote the music. Those were his words I was quoting.
okay, understood.
cheers!
The Iranian government renamed “Winston Churchill Boulevard”, the location of the Embassy of the United Kingdom in Tehran, to “Bobby Sands Street”, prompting the embassy to move its entrance door to Ferdowsi Avenue to avoid using Bobby Sands Street on its letterhead.
Long live Bobby Sands in our memory!
“…As well as being the leader of the blanket men and of the second hunger strike, Bobby Sands was also the most prolific writer among the H-Block prisoners. He not only wrote press statements, but he also wrote short stories and poems under the pen name “Marcella”, his sister’s name, which were published in Republican News and then in the newly merged An Phoblacht/Republican News after February 1979.
Bobby’s writings span the last four years of his life in H-Block 3, 4, 5, or 6. They were written on pieces of government issue toilet roll or on the rice paper of contraband cigarette roll-ups with the refill of a biro pen which he kept hidden inside his body. He also wrote as “a young West Belfast republican” and as PRO of the blanket men in the H-Blocks 3, 4, and 6. This collection contains creative pieces – writing of an extremely high standard – as Bobby describes penal life in a compelling and graphic manner. When one recalls that all of his writing was accomplished in almost impossible conditions, one cannot but admire his achievement, an example of the ingenuity and determination of the republican prisoners about whom he writes.
There is a premonition of personal tragedy running through his writings: that his H-Block cell will, literally, become a tomb. His admiration for his comrades and his feelings for supporters and for oppressed people outside of prison emerge in the words which he expertly uses as a weapon against a regime which tries vainly to break and dehumanise him. Bobby’s diary is a unique piece of literature, his last written words…”
http://www.bobbysandstrust.com/writings
I like this YT version of the poem that Saker chose.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hHWy-MyMAtw
Here is a song that Bobby’s friend Brendan “Bik” McFarlane wrote in memory of him.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cGKPX67xAwQ
SONG FOR MARCELLA ( Bobby Sands ) Performed by Padraig Mor and Sean Lyons
“Marcella, the name of his sister, was the psuedonymn that Bobby Sands adopted for his writings while incarcerated in the H-Blocks of Long Kesh. Bobby died on the 5th of May 1981 after 66 days on hunger strike to gain recognition for himself & his comrades as political prisoners. His & the deaths of 9 more Republican P.O.W’s sent shockwaves throughout the world & would change the face of Irish & indeed british politics forever. Ten years after his death, his friend & comrade, Brendan “Bik” McFarlane, wrote this song.”
The Iranians shouldn’t have let up so easily. All they had to do was rename Ferdowsi Avenue to “Bobby Sands Avenue”.
Don’t glorify a terrorist as that’s exactly what Bobby Sands was – he was no hero
“And you dare to call me a terrorist while you look down your gun
When I think of all the deeds you’ve done
You have plundered many nations, divided many lands
You have terrorised their peoples, ruled with an iron hand
And you brought this reign of terror to my land
“May God shine on you Bobby Sands for the courage you have shown
May your story and your name be widely known
And Francis Hughes and Ramie McCreesh who died unselfishly
And Patsy O’Hara and the next in line is me’
(Joe Mc Donnell, comrade of Bobby Sands, 5th hunger striker to die of the 10)
Tiocfaidh ar la
Constantin Brâncoveanu 1654 – August 15, 1714) was Prince of Wallachia between 1688 and 1714. He died exactly 302 years ago.
The circumstances and facts of Constantin’s death are history, his santification recognized in all The Eastern Orthodox Church.
Dragoș Ungureanu, a specialist at the National Patrimony Institute, makes “a clear distinction between the holiness status of Prince Brâncoveanu and the same quality of some European monarchs who haven’t suffered a martyr’s death. Brâncoveanu was canonized for his and his sons’ martyrdom, just like the Christians martyrdom in ancient Rome, killed for their faith in Christ. And just like other Christian martyrs, Brâncoveanu had to choose between his and his sons’ death and the denial of Christ, (in their case, by converting to Islam). His character, the nature of his relations with the others, the unexpected events of life brought, against his will, in this strange, even shocking situation for the year 1714.”[1]
On 15 August 1714, Saint Mary Feast, when Constantin Brâncoveanu also celebrated his 60th birthday, he and his four sons together with counselor Ianache were brought in front of Sultan Ahmed The Third of Turkey. Diplomatical representatives of Austria, Russia, France and England were also present. Here is what history remembers: After all of his fortunes were taken, in exchange for the life of his family he was asked to renounce the orthodox-christian fate. He reportedly said: ″Behold, all my fortunes and all I had, I have lost! Let us not lose our souls. Be brave and manly, my beloved! Ignore death. Look at Christ, our Savior, how much has endured for us and with what shamefull death has died. Strongly believe in this and do not move, nor do you leave your faith for this life and this world.″ After this, his four sons, Constantin, Ștefan, Radu and Matei and counselor Ianache were beheaded in front of their father. [2]
History records also that the smallest child, Matei (12 years old) was so scared after seeing all the bloodbath and heads of his three brothers that he started crying asking his father to let him renounce christianity and convert to islam as sultan Ahmed the Third asked in front of all the great powers represented there. At this moment, Constantin Brâncoveanu said: “From our kind nobody lost his faith. It is better to die a thousand times than to leave your ancient faith just to live few more years on earth.” Matei listened and offered his head. After Brâncoveanu was also decapitated, their heads were stabbed with a javelin and shown in a procession. Their bodies were left in the front of the gate and later on thrown in the waters of the Bosphorus.
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Constantin_Br%C3%A2ncoveanu
Many thanks for posting this sad but heart encouraging part of the Romanian history !
Wonderful ! and I read it again and again, after reading vok tak and Tegularius comments – the story of Bobby Sands. Thanks Saker for sharing !
Bobby Sands – bless his soul! Many of us have always known the British Army was the real terrorist. The news in the UK was carefully “edited” and when Protestant paramilitary groups caused havoc English papers make it appear it was the Republicans albeit by a cunning omission – not naming the group. By default, the public blamed the IRA for everything even for attacking “themselves”.