Post by Stallit 2 de Halfo on Oct 29, 2007 19:42:09 GMT
Perhaps an Anthem for Irish Travellers:
Oh yes, we are the Travellers of this land,
those who stride out to an older chant,
obeying our ancient spirit's command,
"mishlee the thoaber, thaari the Cant."
Not for us were the country man's ways,
nor for any other to be deemed our master,
we'd go where we wish, at our own pace,
fast as we wished and surely no faster.
Scant welcome had we on the byroads of Erin,
and of late even America forsakes our hand;
the lies now pursue us beyond toleration
and freedom for nomads is sought to be banned.
The Life can never be fettered and numbered,
nor lines and borders ever enslave our band;
our people will never by chains be encumbered.
Oh yes, we are the Travellers of this land.
Bypass
I'm headed down the road today,
just reading billboards and
watching signposts rush the other way.
There's young-love songs
that fill the air,
but I am otherwise, it's sad to say.
It's just that sometimes it seems to be,
that my trailer's pushing me!
God only knows what I hope to find,
ploughing bow-waves,
the wind-shadows
passing truckers always leave behind.
There is naught back there but broken dreams
to rain upon my soul
and here sunbeams sing and wind-leaves sway
to airs so faint,
I can't quite hear.
Maybe I could further down the way.
The air of the open road is sweet,
free and clear of yesterday,
though traces linger from long ago,
just wisps of joy
that touch the heart
and call to mind how I loved her so.
www.travellersrest.org/
Oh yes, we are the Travellers of this land,
those who stride out to an older chant,
obeying our ancient spirit's command,
"mishlee the thoaber, thaari the Cant."
Not for us were the country man's ways,
nor for any other to be deemed our master,
we'd go where we wish, at our own pace,
fast as we wished and surely no faster.
Scant welcome had we on the byroads of Erin,
and of late even America forsakes our hand;
the lies now pursue us beyond toleration
and freedom for nomads is sought to be banned.
The Life can never be fettered and numbered,
nor lines and borders ever enslave our band;
our people will never by chains be encumbered.
Oh yes, we are the Travellers of this land.
Bypass
I'm headed down the road today,
just reading billboards and
watching signposts rush the other way.
There's young-love songs
that fill the air,
but I am otherwise, it's sad to say.
It's just that sometimes it seems to be,
that my trailer's pushing me!
God only knows what I hope to find,
ploughing bow-waves,
the wind-shadows
passing truckers always leave behind.
There is naught back there but broken dreams
to rain upon my soul
and here sunbeams sing and wind-leaves sway
to airs so faint,
I can't quite hear.
Maybe I could further down the way.
The air of the open road is sweet,
free and clear of yesterday,
though traces linger from long ago,
just wisps of joy
that touch the heart
and call to mind how I loved her so.
www.travellersrest.org/
