1. |
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We don’t want your statues
We don’t want your state
My body scourged
My daughters raped
Burn, Londinium, burn
Burn London, burn
Destroy colonial relics
Of parallel histories
Burn, Londinium, Burn
Burn London, burn
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2. |
Ellen
02:12
|
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A policeman is a disgrace to his country
Not alone to the mother that suckled him
Seek revenge for the human race
Let no damned Englishman know my face
My mother of her strength I spoke
It appears you forget where you come from
Forgo Ireland, your life- a joke!
You clearly aren’t your emerald mother’s son
Fuck the men who help them too
Consider the shame, I implore you
Whose land are you on?
What kind of sick old bastard raised this son?
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3. |
Aunty
03:10
|
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The spirits of women past
Break through the concrete
On our hands we see them in the dust
They walk this land and guide us
Whilst we fight on Aboriginal land
We look to the old ones to understand
Where the strength must come from
Where our children must learn from
Aunty, this fight is still ongoing
Ancestral blood is in their veins
You can see it in the faces of your young
Your strength is in their hearts
Strength drawn from time immemorial
To fight this enduring war
And as the earth is scorched and empires fall,
The Matriarchs will still be standing strong
From creation up to the present day
Hope is a woman, painted with red-ochre clay
Ngiyaningu maran yaliwunga ngarra-li (Our ancestors are always watching)
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4. |
Emma
01:43
|
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The high priestess of anarchy
Give me roses
Give me radiant things
Give me freedom
Give me beautiful release
Let loose the ties of prejudice
Set free the chains of denial
Radical action our key to survival
Bring me joy
Bring us joy
Give us roses
Give us radiant things
Give us freedom
Give us beautiful release
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5. |
An Cailleach Béara
02:39
|
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I wish I could withstand what the coast does
And my erosion was a slower process
A million years of weathering
Parallels women’s strength
A land that bore our mothers
An earth that slowly crumbles beneath us
Transforming year to year
Until the darkness engulfs us
Ebb tide to me
As to the sea
The wave of the great sea is speaking
The water buries us with it / the winter is striking us with it
I do not look to welcome today
As the earth sleeps
We struggle to breathe
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6. |
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7. |
Tapestry
04:06
|
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I seek the salt of the lake
Cleanse me of his cruelty
I won’t be silent
Though you try to silence me
My words, my message
Here in this tapestry
A nightingale I will come to thee
Your violence immortalised in tapestry
You savage!
You can’t take my voice
I will articulate my pain
Greek woods become grey salt scrub
You will no longer take from me
I seek the salt of the lake
Cleanse me of his cruelty
I won’t be silent
Though he tried to silence me
This here, my words, my truth
Here in my tapestry
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8. |
Meatgrinder
00:35
|
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My boskage of venus
Spits down my thighs
Conceals my gizmo
The mother of saint patrick
Sacrifice yourself at love’s altar
My heart beats blood around my body
That could save anyone
From my velvet lined meatgrinder
It tides and it expels
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9. |
Mairéad
03:04
|
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Family homes in rubble, rock
They wonder why we will not stop
Diedre laments another cries
In cowardice another dies
No court is just on stolen land
Injustice we can’t comprehend
She will not rest won’t go to sleep
Until her beautiful land is free
She will not ponder will not cry
Whilst Ireland lives she will not die
Irish republicanism a natural progression
Heavy guns loaded to teach kids a lesson
Is mna sinn/We are women
Ní sasanache me/ We are not English
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10. |
Fulvia
01:15
|
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Who rules the ruler?
Who commands the commander?
Who brings cruelty to all near her?
Who makes great men greater?
In these curls I’ve fixed
A hairpin weapon
Pierce the tongue of those
Who defame us
A story written
Upon my face
In the blood of those
Who die at my feet
A widow I point out his wounds
A widow I pour out my grief
A grand revenge fantasy
Only envied by a Scorpio
I cut from him his head
And so it sits beside my bed
In these curls I’ve fixed
A hairpin weapon
Disarm the tongue of Cicero
A grand old Roman rodeo
A widow I point out his wounds
A widow I pour out my grief
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11. |
The Drover's Wife
04:11
|
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Bush all around
There’s no horizon here
No solace in the she-oaks
No country I know dear
So long I’ve sat here waiting
On your arrival home
My heart you have it breaking
Our children wish you home
Our children I have lost
To the torment of this frontier
Gallows faced and alone
I shouldn’t be here
So much I’d like to stoush ya
So much I’ve got to say
Too hard it is to stay here
I need to make my way
The rain now pelts down
Upon this land we call our own
who knows how to care
In the face of the unknown?
When does a mother’s role end?
When the aching in my chest is put to bed
I’ve fought so hard against all
But my love for you
Our Tommy’s old enough now
He is the image of you
He swore he’d never drove
He promised me that much
And now my darling drover
My time on this land is up
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