The Dubliners - Sands of Sudan lyrics
[The Dubliners - Sands of Sudan lyrics]
There's a withering child on
The sands of Sudan
His body's too weak to hold out his hand
And beg for the bread that he might get today
For the bird in the
Sky from the West's on it's way
He looks up with anguish and
Grieve in his face
The first world is coming
But coming too late
His young sister's body lies dead in the sand
As the bird from the West drops
It's load on the land
The vultures looked down from an African sky
On one living hell as they
Wait for their prey
The hardship and suffering too
Great to believe
Thеse poor hungry people thеy
Need some relief
The West's anxious faces look on in despair
From the comfort of home where
We lounge in a chair
And shed a few tears for the victims that die
On video-screens that we've saved up to buy
So what is more cruel, is it nature or men
As thousands more perish on the sand of Sudan
And what price to pay for
A small bag of grain
That the West throws away for
It's profit and gain
There's a withering child on
The sands of Sudan
His body's too weak to hold out his hand
And beg for the bread that he might get today
For the bird in the sky from
The West's on it's way
The sands of Sudan
His body's too weak to hold out his hand
And beg for the bread that he might get today
For the bird in the
Sky from the West's on it's way
He looks up with anguish and
Grieve in his face
The first world is coming
But coming too late
His young sister's body lies dead in the sand
As the bird from the West drops
It's load on the land
The vultures looked down from an African sky
On one living hell as they
Wait for their prey
The hardship and suffering too
Great to believe
Thеse poor hungry people thеy
Need some relief
The West's anxious faces look on in despair
From the comfort of home where
We lounge in a chair
And shed a few tears for the victims that die
On video-screens that we've saved up to buy
So what is more cruel, is it nature or men
As thousands more perish on the sand of Sudan
And what price to pay for
A small bag of grain
That the West throws away for
It's profit and gain
There's a withering child on
The sands of Sudan
His body's too weak to hold out his hand
And beg for the bread that he might get today
For the bird in the sky from
The West's on it's way