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like a fist clutching bread just to hoard and withhold |
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like the grain that they locked in the silo |
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we'll be eating soup of stone til what we grow is what we own, |
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but we won't steal from the land what's freely given |
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tear up the deeds to the land, throw the debts into the furnace, |
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debts to god to the banks and to the landlord |
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don your armor don your helm, which was forged from an old plows blade |
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train your horses round and aim your guns at Sydney |
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I was born from a seed that was swallowed by a mad woman |
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from the lips and the tongue of ceridwen |
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I had took just a taste that had splashed up from the black kettle |
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in the waves neither drowned nor aged a day |
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down their lying in the brush was one bloody tethered horse, |
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and one detective in the service of the crown |
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even theough we're just one pistol against an army of policemen |
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I insist that we are many and they are few |
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I was born from a seed that was swallowed by a mad woman |
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from the lips and the tongue of ceridwen |
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I had took just a taste that had splashed up from the black kettle |
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in the waves neither drowned nor aged a day |
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It was on Van Dieman's land where your father came in transport |
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chained like cattle to the deck of a ship |
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held hostage in a word, stolen from the shores of erin |
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south australia bound in bondage of the queen's men |
