The Dubliners - The Rebel lyrics
[The Dubliners - The Rebel lyrics]
I am come of the seed of the people
The people that sorrow
Who have no treasure but hope
No riches laid up but a
Memory of an ancient glory
My mother bore me in bondage
In bondage my mother was born
I am of the blood of serfs
The children with whom I have played
The men and women with whom I have eaten
Have had masters over them
Have been under the lash of masters
And though gentle, have served churls
The hands that have touched mine
The dear hands whose touch Is familiar to me
Have worn shameful manacles
Have been bitten at the wrist by manacles
Have grown hard with the manacles
And the task-work of strangers
I am flesh of the flesh of these lowly
I am bone of their bone
I that have never submitted
I that have a soul greater than
The souls of my people's masters
I that have vision and prophecy
And the gift of fiery speech
I that have spoken with God on
The top of his holy hill
And because I am of the people
I understand the people
I am sorrowful with their sorrow
I am hungry with their desire
My heart is heavy with the grief of mothers
My eyes have been wet with
The tears of children
I have yearned with old wistful men
And laughed and cursed with young men
Their shame is my shame
And I have reddened for it
Reddened for that they have served
They who should be free
Reddened for that they have gone in want
While others have been full
Reddened for that they have walked in
Fear of lawyers and their jailors
With their Writ's of Summons
And their handcuffs men mean and cruel
I could have borne stripes on my body
Rather than this shame of my people
And now I speak, being full of vision:
I speak to my people
And I speak in my people's name to
The masters of my people:
I say to my people that they are holy
That they are august despite their chains
That they are greater than
Those that hold them and stronger and purer
That they have but need of courage
And to call on the name of their God
God the unforgetting
The dear God who loves the people
For whom he died naked, suffering shame
And I say to my people's masters: Beware
Beware of the thing that is coming
Beware of the risen people
Who shall take what ye would not give
Did ye think to conquer the people
Or that law is stronger than life
And than men's desire to be free?
We will try it out with you
Ye that have harried and held
Ye that have bullied and bribed
Tyrants hypocrites liars!
The people that sorrow
Who have no treasure but hope
No riches laid up but a
Memory of an ancient glory
My mother bore me in bondage
In bondage my mother was born
I am of the blood of serfs
The children with whom I have played
The men and women with whom I have eaten
Have had masters over them
Have been under the lash of masters
And though gentle, have served churls
The hands that have touched mine
The dear hands whose touch Is familiar to me
Have worn shameful manacles
Have been bitten at the wrist by manacles
Have grown hard with the manacles
And the task-work of strangers
I am flesh of the flesh of these lowly
I am bone of their bone
I that have never submitted
I that have a soul greater than
The souls of my people's masters
I that have vision and prophecy
And the gift of fiery speech
I that have spoken with God on
The top of his holy hill
And because I am of the people
I understand the people
I am sorrowful with their sorrow
I am hungry with their desire
My heart is heavy with the grief of mothers
My eyes have been wet with
The tears of children
I have yearned with old wistful men
And laughed and cursed with young men
Their shame is my shame
And I have reddened for it
Reddened for that they have served
They who should be free
Reddened for that they have gone in want
While others have been full
Reddened for that they have walked in
Fear of lawyers and their jailors
With their Writ's of Summons
And their handcuffs men mean and cruel
I could have borne stripes on my body
Rather than this shame of my people
And now I speak, being full of vision:
I speak to my people
And I speak in my people's name to
The masters of my people:
I say to my people that they are holy
That they are august despite their chains
That they are greater than
Those that hold them and stronger and purer
That they have but need of courage
And to call on the name of their God
God the unforgetting
The dear God who loves the people
For whom he died naked, suffering shame
And I say to my people's masters: Beware
Beware of the thing that is coming
Beware of the risen people
Who shall take what ye would not give
Did ye think to conquer the people
Or that law is stronger than life
And than men's desire to be free?
We will try it out with you
Ye that have harried and held
Ye that have bullied and bribed
Tyrants hypocrites liars!