| I’m cutting up her pure white dress
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| That I dyed red
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| That I dyed red
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| I’m putting scraps in cheap tin lockets
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| What time erases and memory mocks
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| I’ll send them over the ocean foam
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| Right into those gentle European homes
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| The slave ship «Blessing"slipped from Liverpool
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| Over the waves the Royal Navy rules
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| To go and plunder the Kingdom of Benin
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| Where certain history ends and shame begins
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| Dahomey traders paid in powder and shot
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| Line up their prisoners and they sell them in lots
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| They packed them tight inside those coffin ships
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| And took them to the brand new world of
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| auction blocks and whips
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| I’m cutting up her pure white dress
|
| That I dyed red
|
| That I dyed red
|
| I’m putting scraps in cheap tin lockets
|
| What time erases and memory mocks
|
| I’ll send them over the ocean foam
|
| Right into those gentle European homes
|
| White is the sheet on your fine linen bed
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| The blood stained red on each cotton thread
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| Merchants will gather at St. George’s Hall
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| To unveil the kneeling slave who is carved upon the wall
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| So picture the scene on the Old Salt House docks
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| Where they loaded the iron shackles and locks
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| Between a sandstone crocodile, a barrel and a bale
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| You will see the nameless faces they were offering for sale
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| So, I sing the praises of God’s glory
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| As a blue cetacean floats in the basement
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| An elephant on the second storey
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| They queue all day to see him
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| In my American Museum
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| But the Lord will judge us with fire and thunder
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| As man continues in all his blunders
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| It’s only money
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| It’s only numbers
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| Maybe it is time to put aside these fictitious wonders
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| But man is feeble
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| Man is puny
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| And if it should divide the Union
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| There is no man that should own another
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| When he can’t even recognise his sister and his brother |