Back Home In Derry
Christy Moore| Original | Versione italiana dei Bededeum |
| BACK HOME IN DERRY In 1803 we sailed out to sea Out from the sweet town of Derry. For Australia bound if we didn't all drown And the marks of our fetters were heavy In the rusty iron chains we sighed for our weans Our good women we left there in sorrow As the mainsails unfurled, our curses were hurled At the English and the thoughts of tomorrow Oh....oh, I wish I was back home in Derry. Oh....oh, I wish I was back home in Derry. At the mouth of the Foyle, bid farewell to the soil As down below decks we were lying. O'Docherty's scream woke him out of a dream By a vision of bold Robert dying. The sun burned cruel and they dished out the gruel Dan O'Connor was down with the fever Sixty rebels that day bound for Botany Bay How many would reach there this evening? Oh....oh, I wish I was back home in Derry. Oh....oh, I wish I was back home in Derry. I cursed them to hell, as her bow fought the swell Our ship danced like a moth on the firelight Wild horses rode high as the devil passed by Taking souls into Hades by twilight light Five weeks out to sea we were now 43 We buried our comrades each morning And in our own slime we were lost in a time, Endless days without dawning Oh....oh, I wish I was back home in Derry. Oh....oh, I wish I was back home in Derry. Van Diemen's Land is a hell for a man To live out his life in slavery Where the climate is raw and the gun makes the law Neither wind nor rain care of bravery Twenty years have gone by and I've ended my bond My comrades' ghosts walk beside me Well a rebel I came and sure I'll die the same On a cold winter's night you will find me. Oh....oh, I wish I was back home in Derry. Oh....oh, I wish I was back home in Derry. Oh....oh, I wish I was back home in Derry. Oh....oh, I wish I was back home in Derry. | LE VOCI DI DERRY Salpammo da Derry, i polsi nei ceppi, l'Australia la nostra prigione. La rotta insicura e la nostra paura, il dolore e l'umiliazione. Sul ponte in catene cercammo lontano il ricordo di un figlio smarrito. Gli inglesi dannati nei nostri cuori feriti; il Destino e l'Abisso infinito. Alla foce del Foyle lasciammo l'ultimo addio rinchiusi là, dentro la stiva. O'Doherty urlò quando il sogno svegliò la Morte che Robert rapiva. Il sole crudele ed un pasto di fiele, Dan O'Connor… l'agonia sul volto! 60 imbarcati, ribelli dannati; in quanti vedremo quel porto?... Oh … Lontane le voci di Derry! Il mare gridava e la nave rollava, falena che danza nel fuoco. Il Demonio rideva, nella notte strappava la vita dagli occhi dell'uomo. Cinque mesi passati, quarantatre siam restati: ogni giorno un compagno nel mare! Il tempo si ferma in una notte ormai eterna, l'alba non vuole tornare!... Van Deimens è l'inferno per chi vive in eterno, fu quella la nostra prigione: la legge è il fucile ed il clima crudele, la Morte una liberazione. Vent'anni passati, oggi siam liberati ma il ricordo dei compagni è atroce. Ribelle son stato e non sono cambiato, al Vento ho donato la Voce!... Oh … Lontane le grida di Derry! |
