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Aparece en la discografía de

Talking Sailor


Versión de Woody Guthrie
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
Óbito

el 22/11/2022

Pablo Milanés, uno de los más importantes trovadores de los últimos años, ha fallecido esta noche a los 79 años, tras permanecer ingresado en Madrid durante más de una semana, informaron medios oficiales.

HOY EN PORTADA
Óbito

por Frank Carlos Nájera el 22/11/2022

En las noches tristes, escribo. Dormir no apetece ni apremia. La tristeza se canaliza y empieza a formar palabras, y las palabras se me venden como necesarias, y yo las compro y las consumo creyendo que las voy creando. Nunca he sido fumador. Fumo palabras y entre el humo de las noticias voy rodeando la imagen de un rostro muy familiar.

 



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