miércoles, 9 de noviembre de 2011

THE PROBLEM WITH SAINTS




I wish that Joan of Arc wouldn’t hang around the park
Pronouncing that she won’t get burned again
Her armour’s very shiny and her message is divine
But I wish she’d take a day off now and then
She said it clears your head when you come back from the
dead
With your sword as sharp as anything that cuts
And to prove it she bisected three young tourists from
Utrecht
Which rapidly displayed a lot of guts
She says we need to
raise a brand new army
And the flag of France
so proudly she unfurled
And the people that
she hated will be neatly bifurcated
And the British will
no longer rule the world
(She says) it was a mistake to let them burn her at the
stake
And she learned a lesson back there in the flames
So she’s going to kill the queen and then she’ll rescue Old
Orleans
And it’s really hard to hang around with saints
I think I ought to tell her that the English left in failure
And they don’t go back to France except on hols
But I saw her vivisect a man who wanted to correct her --
And the playground soon resembled grand guignol
She says we need to
raise a brand new army
And she marched us
round until we couldn’t stand
She says the nation
she abhors will soon be writhing on the floor
And the British will
no longer rule her land
And she’s waiting for the dauphin who will come across the
ocean,
And knows that God agrees with her complaints
So I’m hoping that she’ll ignore my English accent in her
war
‘Cause it’s really hard to hang around with saints
She says we need to
raise a brand new army
And the flag of France
so proudly she unfurled
And the people that
she hated will be neatly bifurcated
And the British will
no longer rule
the British will no longer rule
the British will no longer rule the
world!

martes, 8 de noviembre de 2011

MOLLY MALONE, performed by Sinéad O'Connor



In Dublin's Fair City
Where the girls are so pretty
I first set my eyes on sweet Molly Malone
As she wheel'd her wheel barrow
Through streets broad and narrow
Crying cockles and mussels
alive, alive o!
ChorusAlive, alive o!, alive, alive o!
Crying cockles and mussels alive, alive o!
She was a fishmonger
But sure 'twas no wonder
For so were her father and mother before
And they each wheel'd their barrow
Through streets broad and narrow
Crying cockles and mussels alive, alive o!
Chorus
She died of a fever
And no one could save her
And that was the end of sweet Molly Malone
But her ghost wheels her barrow
Through streets broad and narrow
Crying cockles and mussels alive, alive o!
Chorus