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Talking Sailor


In bed with my women just a singing the blues,
And I heard the radio a telling the news,
Said the big Red army took a hundred towns,
And the Allies dropping them two ton bombs.
I started hollering, yelling.
Dancing up and down like a bullfrog.

Doorbell rung in come a man,
I signed my name, I got a telegram.
Says,"If you want to take a vacation trip,
Got a dish-washing job on a liberty ship."
Woman a crying. Me a flying.
Out the door and down the line.

'Bout two minutes I run ten blocks,
I come to my ship down at the docks.
Walked up the plank and I signed my name,
Blowed the whistle and was gone again.
Right on out and down the stream.
Ships as far as my eye could see.
Pulling away.

Ship loaded down with T.N.T.
All out across the rolling sea.
I stood on the deck and watched the fishes swim,
I was a-praying them fishes wasn't made of tin.
Sharks. Porpoises.
Jelly beans, rainbow trouts, mud-cats, jew-gars,
All over that water.

This convoy's the biggest I ever did see,
It stretches all the way out across the sea.
The ships blow their whistles and ring their bells,
Gonna blow them Fascists all to Hell.
Win some freedom. Liberty.
Stuff like that.

Walked to the tail, stood on the stern,
Looking at the big brass screw-blade turn,
Listened to the sound of the engines pond:
Came sixteen feet every time it went round.
Gets closer and closer.
Look out, you Fascists!

I'm just one of the merchant crew,
I belong to the union called the N.M.R.
I'm a union man from head to toe,
I'm U.S.A. and C.I.O.
Fighting out here on the waters.
Win some freedom. On the land.

(1963)










 
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HOY DESTACAMOS
Año Violeta

el 10/09/2017

En el marco de las celebraciones por el centenario del nacimiento de Violeta Parra, su hija Isabel y su nieta Tita actuarán en Portugal, Francia y en un concierto especial del Festival BarnaSants, en donde el día antes de su presentación recibirá en el Ayuntamiento de Barcelona, de la mano de su alcaldesa Ada Colau, el Premio a la Trayectoria.

HOY EN PORTADA
Nuevo cancionero y discografía

por Luis García Gil el 11/09/2017

En la voz de Sílvia Pérez Cruz parecen morar todas las patrias. Melancólica y misteriosa Sílvia Pérez Cruz recorre los atlas sonoros del sentimiento, los paisajes recónditos de la memoria, los secretos que el viento deja en los atardeceres. Su canción, la que ella dibuja en los labios, fluye armoniosa y latente desde su origen. Presentamos el nuevo cancionero y discografía de Sílvia Pérez Cruz

 



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