A Prisoner's Christmas
Gerry O'Glacain| Versione francese di Licorne, ripresa da Chants pour une libre Irlande | |
| A PRISONER'S CHRISTMAS On the motorway just the other night, Some lights were flickering off to my right, My little son sitting by my side, Asked "are those fairy lights for Christmas time." Those are not lights for a Christmas tree, That's dark Long Kesh son, you'll grow to see, That Christmas cheer does not mean a thing, In the Gaelic in Armagh or a H-Block wing. It is a time for festivity, For party games and our families, But many homes are sad tonight, They whisper someones name by the candlelight. Those are not lights for a Christmas tree, That's dark Long Kesh son, you'll grow to see, That Christmas cheer does not mean a thing, In the Gaelic in Armagh or a H-Block wing. 'Tis the season of goodwill, And here in Ireland we believe that still, I hate no man for his faith or creed, We only want our sons and our daughters free. Those are not lights for a Christmas tree, That's dark Long Kesh son, you'll grow to see, That Christmas cheer does not mean a thing, In the Gaelic in Armagh or a H-Block wing. When you grow up son, to be a man, You will inherit a better land, With peace and joy let our country ring, You'll never have to hear your children sing: Those are not lights for a Christmas tree, That's dark Long Kesh son, you'll grow to see, That Christmas cheer does not mean a thing, In the Gaelic in Armagh or a H-Block wing. | UN NOËL DE PRISONNIER Sur la route l'autre nuit, Des lumières clignotaient à ma droite, Mon fiston à coté de moi, A demandé "Ce sont les illuminations de Noël." Ce ne sont pas des lumières d'un arbre de Noël, C'est Long Kesh la sinistre fiston, tu verras en grandissant, Que les voeux de Noël ne veulent rien dire, Quand ils sont en Gaëlique en Armagh ou dans les Blocs-H. C'est un moment de réjouissances, En famille et entre amis, Mais beaucoup de foyers sont tristes ce soir, Qui appellent les absents à la lumière des cierges. C'est le moment des hommes de bonne volonté, Et ici, en Irlande, nous y croyons encore, Je ne hais personne pour sa foi ou ses convictions, Nous voulons juste la liberté pour nos filles et nos fils. Quand tu seras grand, fiston, quand tu seras un homme, Tu hériteras d'un pays meilleur, Que la pays résonne de paix et de joie, Que tu n'ais jamais à entendre tes enfants chanter. |
