| In a foreign town
|
| In a foreign land
|
| Reaping time had come
|
| In fields of swaying rape
|
| It could not happen here
|
| Pushed to one side with the flick of a wrist
|
| Out of sight
|
| And out of mind
|
| Fallng back in fields of rape
|
| In yellow heads of blossom
|
| Mothers babies bleeding
|
| You stand there laughing
|
| Unquestioning unconfronting
|
| Poetic lines on the art of dying
|
| Falling back in fields of rape
|
| That was the way
|
| Those were the horrors
|
| As daddy went a-reaping
|
| In nodding heads of rape
|
| No mark on your spotless conscience
|
| No blemish on your immaculate body
|
| Untouched by sight or sound of misery
|
| Close the eyes
|
| Shift the responsibility
|
| It was not you
|
| It was not you
|
| Falling back in fields of rape
|
| My children
|
| Falling back in fields of rape
|
| It could not happen here
|
| Pushed to one side with a flick of the wrist
|
| Out of sight
|
| And out of mind
|
| Falling back in fields of rape
|
| Poetic lines on the art of dying
|
| Falling back in fields of rape
|
| That was the way
|
| And those were the horrors
|
| As daddy went a-reaping
|
| In nodding heads of rape
|
| No mark on your spotless conscience
|
| No blemish on your immaculate body
|
| Untouched by sight or sound of misery
|
| Close the eyes
|
| Shift the responsibility
|
| It wasn’t you
|
| Falling back in fields of rape
|
| My children
|
| Falling back in fields of rape
|
| Here we go round the mulberry bush
|
| The mulberry bush
|
| The mulberry bush
|
| Here we go round the mulberry bush
|
| On a cold and frosty morning
|
| In a foreign town
|
| In a foreign land
|
| Reaping time had come
|
| Falling back in fields of rape
|
| My love
|
| And that was the way
|
| And those were the horrors
|
| As daddy went a-reaping
|
| Falling back in fields of rape
|
| My children
|
| Crushed, crushed, crushed
|
| In mud and wars
|
| Mother children bleeding
|
| You stand there laughing
|
| Falling back in fields of rape
|
| Never eating
|
| Bags of bones dying quietly
|
| Homeless
|
| Drinking foul water
|
| Sorting garbage
|
| With flies in heat
|
| Raped
|
| Axed
|
| Burned with acid
|
| Locked away for thirty years
|
| Thrown out of a helicopter
|
| Forced to labour endlessly
|
| Castrated
|
| Burned alive
|
| Killed so easily by firing squads
|
| In a foreign town
|
| In a foreign land
|
| Reaping time has come
|
| They’re falling back
|
| In fields of rape
|
| In fields of rape
|
| They’re falling back
|
| In fields of rape
|
| My love
|
| And this is our way
|
| And these are the horrors
|
| As we go a-reaping
|
| They’re falling back
|
| In fields of rape
|
| In fields of rape
|
| They’re falling back
|
| In fields of rape
|
| My darling
|
| And crushed, crushed, crushed
|
| In mud and wars
|
| Still you stand there laughing
|
| They’re falling back in fields of rape
|
| In fields of rape they’re falling back
|
| My lovers
|
| In fields of rape the ravens
|
| Descend. |
| the yellow beak slashes
|
| Corn, the sickles are sharpened
|
| And the cattle bleed, and reaping
|
| Time has come, our voices grow
|
| Shriller, and our eyes glitter, but
|
| In this last summer the Rapture
|
| Descends, and father’s mask has
|
| Turned to grey, and mother’s
|
| Breasts are leper white, and
|
| Children’s laughter cracks, and
|
| Reaping time has come, body and
|
| Blood, body and blood, body and
|
| Blood, body and mud, body and
|
| Blood, body and mud, and
|
| Christ’s eyes, I am weary, and
|
| Christ’s eyes, I want to melt
|
| Bleeding Jesus, be quick, be quick
|
| (And what would you do, my gentlest
|
| One???)
|
| Falling back in fields of rape… |