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Immigrant

John McCutcheon
Lingua: Inglese


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[1999]
Lyrics & Music by John McCutcheon
Album: Supper's On The Table [2000]
51oZR2gQukL. SS400

[The chorus is based on the inscription on the base of the Statue of Liberty:]
Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tossed to me,
I lift my lamp beside the golden door!

Emma Lazarus (1849-1887)

Iscrizione
I am an immigrant
I am a stranger in this place
Here both for the grace of God
Go I
I am an immigrant
I have left everything I own
To everything I've known
I say goodbye

She said: "Give me your tired"
Lord, you know I'm weary
When she said "Give me your poor"
She's talking to me
One of your huddled masses
Yearning to breathe free
And I never have lost sight of
What this journey has been for
See how she lifts her lamp
Beside that golden door

I am an Irishman
The famine put us to the test
Away into the West
Like wild birds flying
We put our backs to the wheel
With a heart that always yearned for home
We made this place our own
And about died trying

She said: "Give me your tired"
Lord, you know I'm weary
When she said "Give me your poor"
She's talking to me
One of your huddled masses
Yearning to breathe free
And I never have lost sight of
What this journey has been for
See how she lifts her lamp
Beside that golden door

I am Chinese
I worked your mills, your yards, your mines
Laid your railroad lines
With my two good hands
I am a Chicano
In your orchards and your fields
I have gathered in the yields
For this hungry land

She said: "Give me your tired"
Lord, you know I'm weary
When she said "Give me your poor"
She's talking to me
One of your huddled masses
Yearning to breathe free
And I never have lost sight of
What this journey has been for
See how she lifts her lamp
Beside that golden door

I am Nigerian
I am Iranian, a Jew
From Laos, Katmandu
I am your story
I am a long, long line
One you have forgotten that is true
I am everything you knew
I am your glory

She said: "Give me your tired"
Lord, you know we're weary
When she said: "Give me your poor"
She's talking to you and me
We are the huddled masses
Yearning to breathe free
And we never will lose sight of
What this journey has been for
As we lift her lamp
Beside the golden door..

inviata da giorgio - 8/2/2011 - 14:35



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