anarchism, anti-bureaucrat, anti-colonialism, anti-racism, labor, martyrs, song, tragedy

The Guns of Marikana


capo up 5 to a dm and accompany on pennywhistle

Introduction, to the tune of “Song of the Lower Classes”,

The more the masters pound the bread, the more the dough will rise
The thorns of time pull on the thread, it tears off the disguise
As the river flows, wild flowers will grow, where you tried to cut the weeds
The people who you buried, don’t you know that they were seeds?

Begin reggae beat on guitar. Accordion or harmonium, banjo or cajon, bass.
Am G Am C B7 Am
Rising around the Lonmin mine, Marikana’s hills are rusting red
Am G Am, C B7 Am
Red above the platinum’s shine- Red to hold the graves of the workers dead
Am Em Am G Am
The miners killed in ‘54 Ask where is the union
Am Em Am C B7
The martyred dead of Sharpsville roar- Where is the revolution?
Am G Am Am G Am
They are answered by the guns of Marikana- Answered by the guns of Marikana

Do you trust in Ramaphosa? Did you see the stewards shoot them down?
The kopjes turned into Golgatha- Tell me, who’s the man who wears the crown?
Once he fought to form the union- Once he fought to bury Apartheid
Money drives an evolution– Now he’s the captain for the other side
Master of the guns of Marikana. Master of the guns of Marikana.

Bridge (sung lines, not a duet)
Dm C Dm
And though they try to fool us We know the game, the know the score
Dm, C Dm
The invaders still rule us- Money has more servants than the Boer
Dm C Dm
Bosses, bankers, landlords, financiers Extraction built into the constitution
Dm C Dm
By the martyr’s blood and mothers’ tears watering the master’s institutions

No more waiting for a hero To set our voices free and sooth our pain
Freedom won’t come from a bureau Rising from below we’ll break our chains
Chiapas, to Rojava, to Gaza One struggle underneath one sky
Stand your ground! Zabalaza! The more they pound the bread the more we rise
Taking up the guns of Marikana Taking up the guns of Marikana

Tune of “Song of the Lower Classes”, reggae beat
Down down we go, we are so low To the hell of the deep sunk mine
Where we gather the proudest gems that glow In the crown of the despot shine
What money’s worth, we give it birth  By the blood of our own hands
We’re not too low to dig the earth But too low to own the land

gender, labor, song

CHAOS

to the tune of bubliki, swung as a Dixieland jazz number

G
It takes finesse and grace, a stewardess’s place,
G D
An ironed dress with lace, a frozen smile
C G
Try not to flinch when bastards try to pinch your ass
G D Em
Give them an inch and the rich perverts take a mile
To get an airline beat, it’s only fair to cheat
You’re gonna square up light a couple tons
You want to unionize? Then learn to use surprise,
Strike out some flights but never tell the boss which ones

It’s pandemonium, sheer pandemonium
They need each stone to fall right into place
if we just take a seat, we can kick up our feet
And watch the system turn to chaos in their face

You want to bag a trip, out on the Vegas Strip?
To try the scag, and things you’d never do
Make sure you’re on a line that has a contract signed
What happens stays there but now you’re staying there too
And so you hatched a plan to fly to Ketchikan

To get attached to nature, northern style
But your returning flight has been adjourned tonight
It’s time learn what can occur into the wild

It’s pandemonium, ruined the symposium
Ask the custodian if you can crash
Maybe he’s got a couch, if your checks are vouched
Might even drive you south, if you’ve got cash

When Donny played the clown, shut public payments down
Sarah Nelson said it wouldn’t fly
Unless you make a deal, we’ll bring the planes to heel
You want a shutdown? Well we know how to provide

It’s pandemonium, salty like sodium
She’s the Napoleon of US flights
‘Cause when the union walks, boy, we can screw your stock
We’ll rip it through to rock the parasites

A MAGA horde last night, they tried to board my flight
Some plague rat boar I’m sure was in the Klan
I found his Tinder home, had photos in the Dome
The FBI has got him in a party van

It’s pandemonium, he stole the podium
And now his odious ass is in jail
I don’t love cops you see, but better him than me
Just do my part to make the Q d’etat fail

They’ll try to fleece our sight and to police our fight,
But labor peace is rotting with the worms
To get a sweeter deal, keep the heat to their heels
We’ll get them beat before we sit to come to terms

It’s pandemonium, fire and petroleum
It’s not utopian, it’s just hardball
They can count their beans, but we can freeze machines
Until we seize the means and take it all

anti-colonialism, ecological, song

Jack Pine

 

 

Chorus
Em D (Am G)

There’s smoke up in the north country, there’s fire in the pine
C G D (F C G)

There’s a thunderstorm that’s rollin in past the horizon line
Em D C (Am G F)

And there’s white-tail bones and jack pine cones in the shadow of the trees
Em D Em (Am G Am )

But those seeds never take root until the fire sets ‘em free

Em C (Am F)

My daddy was a miner, on the red Mesabi Ore,
G D (C G)

Paid his dues to the the 49ers, ‘til he couldn’t work no more
Em C (Am F)

And on the day the sickness took the life out of his breath
G D (C G)

I caught a freight train headed south outside of Eveleth

 

Percussion or bass comes in- we are now traveling, on train and over highways

 

When you skip town if it weighs you down, you never keep a load

With the Lost Boys and the cross-void tribe that rides the iron road

Who loved and raged from the Cascades, to the Blue Ridge mountain’s stone

And I’ve seen this land in colors that a flag has never shown

 

Chorus

 

Too many turns until I learned the road I’ll choose to walk

the one that brought me home’s the one that led through Standing Rock

And the fires that forged our bonds couldn’t die under the boots

Now we’re scattered like the seeds that grow the prairie grass’s roots

 

I left these woods alone, they called me back, I brought the crew

Taking comfort in old faces, taking courage in the new

In these woods we stand, and these good hands, will make the end of the line

And what it takes, we’ll kill the snake, underneath the northern pine

 

[instrumental bridge, to avoid line/pine couplets being too close]

 

Chorus

martyrs, song, tragedy

I Once Had a Boy

Translation of a song by Aleta about Sotiris Petrulas

I once had a boy as wild as the northern wind

I once had a boy as wild as the northern wind

And a river I filled with tears for what could have been

And a river I filled with tears for what could have been

 

the sunflower’s petals his eyes

pierce like light through the stained glass

Now the dreams that he shared with me

Slip away in the morning like the dew hanging on the grass

Now the dreams that he shared with me

Slip away in the morning like the dew hanging on the grass

 

The third day came and my love did not rise again

The third day came and my love not rise again

Twenty days out in the cold and rain

Twenty days he laid out the cold and rain

 

Now on the mound above his heart

A blood red poppy grows

Now his voice, spun of wildflowers  

Is gone on the wind like a sparrow flying from the snow

his voice, spun of wildflowers  

Is gone on the wind like a sparrow flying from the snow

I once had a boy as wild as the northern wind

I once had a boy as wild as the northern wind

And a river I filled with tears for what could have been

And a river I filled with tears for what could have been

anarchism, anti-bureaucrat, antifascism, labor, martyrs, tragedy

Carlo Tresca

D F#m A G D
The light of dawn, over the ocean, from red into gold is shifting
Bm F#m G D A

The thousand tongues of the nations, like birds on the breeze are lifting-
D G D G A D

And I listen for an old friend’s voice, where the harbor wakes with the dawn
Bm F#m G D A

The city’s songs washes over us- Carlo, where have you gone?

How many nights did you sit and write, setting alarm bells pealing?
And you held your pen like a chisel then, cutting lies and the truth revealing
And the state fell back from your flag of black, like a monster the sun exposes
When we rose in song you made our voices strong, calling out for bread and roses

When the tyrants stole, the yearnings of our soul, and their boots had us trampled under-
Then to cast them out, you taught us to shout, our rage bursting forth like thunder
In the dark of night, in a flash of light, the bullet silenced your mind
your enemies were all numbered in, the butchers of humankind

And the sharp refrain of the whistling train, set the wheels of the world back turning-
And the light is drawn to someone other dawn- now the sun sets the skyline burning
And I listen for, an old friend’s voice, and I hear him echoed everywhere
In each hopeful word, that like singing birds, raise our voices to conquer despair

antifascism, song, tragedy

The Exiles

Translation of the song by Theodorakis

The tides close in around us, this prison of the waves
Young men with a granite gaze stand guard among the caves
Our kin sent from our firesides, our children chained and broke
Tortured on the rack, or else bent under the yoke

Standing tall in the prison yard, ringed with guns and wire
With steel around our hearts, and our spirits bright with fire
Mother do not sigh for me; mother dry your tears
Now the thrones are crumbling; now our day is near

The hills are shining gold before the coming of the day
The numbness of these chains, in its warmth is burned away
Strike them down, my brothers, and strike while we are strong-
Strike to shake the bedrock, and to bring in freedom’s dawn  

antifascism, song

Dark Curls

Translation of a Greek partisan love song

Dm Gm A Dm
Dark falling curls, curls black as ravens
Gm C F
Tossed in the wind like falling autumn leaves
Dm C F
I love you darling, for all days in creation
Dm Gm A Dm
When you’re taken from me, my heart can only grieve

Out in the street there walked nobody bolder
Your hat cocked for style, grinning bright and free
black curls like epaulets hung around your shoulders
Tossed in the wind like falling autumn leaves

The time will come, when our laughter comes more freely-
The chains we’ve worn will be shaken to the floor
Living as brothers, and time will be our healing
For scars and the weight of the nightmares that we bore

I’ll have no fear of the prison at St Stratis
It, too is Greek, and someday it will come down
If curls turn white while we walk towards our freedom,
The coldest winter cannot turn us around

abolition, antifascism, song, translations

Martyr Songs



Em Am
Again, again- the chorus starts again
G D Em
these songs of the martyred dead
Am Em
That we find and compose, ‘til the guitar overflows,
G D
And the wood is stained in red?
Em D
Hero’s speeches, or screams of prisoners,
Am B7
can tumble from the strings I play
Am Em
And my frets stand in rows like crosses by the road-
C B7
milestones to mark us the way
Bb Am Bb C
My father looked past the glass of amber,
Bb C
when he sang have you seen my old friend John?
Em Am
And his eyes welled for the world they’ve pass on to us,
G D Em
and for hopes too long since gone

Do you remember, dear friend, those autumn nights,
with golden spirits around a pyre
that burned in our throats like manifestos,
like dragons to set the world on fire?
How our breath was smoke on cold mornings we woke,
warmed in each other’s touch?
Or how blood steams, staining winter with its streams,
or the vice of a wounded comrade’s clutch?
My frets could be trellis, my strings could be vines,
that sprout out from the melting snow
Climbing towards the warmth on a spring breeze where the sky
is copper in the morning’s glow

Haven’t the dead left us songs enough
to fill the oceans- or drown the Earth?
Do we follow to the world that strangled them,
or to the one one they died to give birth?
Do we draw sacred signs in the ashes
or does the lamp keep the miracle of fire?
Does its warmth guide us through the falling veil of the night,
or do we throw ourselves onto the pyre?
My father looked past the glass of amber, and his smile grew quiet as a tomb
I’ll live to bury you, son, I’m so proud of you- and the Minstrel Boy echoed down the room
G C D G C D G
The Minstrel Boy to the war is gone, in the ranks of death you will find him
G C D G C D G
His father’s sword he is girded on, and his wild harp slung behind him
Em D Em D G
Land of Song, cried the warrior bard, though all the world betray three
G C D G C D G
One sword at least thy rights shall guard, one faithful harp shall praise thee

song

Pickin’ On My Old Guitar



Two AM, second street, strings in my hands and dimes at my feet
I got two good socks, one good shoe, got a hole in my life where the rent falls through
Hey Minneapolis, you’ve been unkind- gonna take a ride on the North Star Line
Throw me a dollar into the jar, I’m pickin’ on my old guitar

Train horn blows, rolls down the track out of the city and into the black
Prairie towns are a passing light, I’ll be meeting a girl in St Cloud tonight
Pickin’ up speed and we pick up a song, my man on the squeezebox is playin’ along 
Tell that conductor come down to the car, I’ll be pickin’ on my old guitar

I got a girl, when she gets her way she plays the piano five hours a day
Those notes are dancing off every page, she got the skills for the Ordway Stage
Goin’ to Bo Diddley’s, come on along, we got a jam there with Brother John
I’ll make my pay when they close up the bar, pickin’ on my old guitar

anarchism, anti-bureaucrat, antifascism, martyrs, song, war

Lovely, Brothers, Lovely

 (English translation of Lyubo Bratsy Lyubo)

Em Am D Em (Dm Gm C Dm)
Hooves rolling like thunder, hooves rolling like thunder
D Em B7 (C Dm A)
Rode like a black river to the open jaws of war
Em Am D G (Dm Gm C F)
First the Maxim’s chatter, then the crying of the shattered
D Em B7 (C Dm A)
bodies of the soldiers lying broken on the shore

Как на грозный Терек выгнали казаки,

Выгнали казаки сорок тысяч лошадей.

И покрылось поле и покрылся берег,

Сотнями порубленных, пострелянных людей.


Chorus
Lovely, brothers, lovely- how fine it is to live
and with our brave commander we have no tears to give
Lovely, brothers, lovely- how fine it is to live
and with our brave commander we have no tears to give

When the first round hit me, when the first round hit me,
When the first round hit me, I could no longer ride 

When the next round hit me, when the next round hit me
When the next round hit me, it cut me through the side

А первая пуля, а первая пуля,

А первая пяля в ногу ранила коня.

А вторая пуля, а вторая пуля,

А вторая пуля в сердце ранила меня

Chorus

The army crossed the border, our people chained and tortured
Bat’ko led us through the night, a hunted rebel band
On the left, the Red soldiers, on the right, the Whites
We ride with flags as black as the soil of the land

Aрмии били в барабаны, пытали народ
расчищает дорогу наша тачанка
Красные солдаты слева, белые солдаты справа
Катаемся с флафами черными как земля

Chorus

My hair like rye in summer, my eyes like pools of water

Will feed the swaying heather and where the sunflowers grow

My bones will soon be bleaching, my heart so bravely beating, 

Will fly over the steppes in the mouths of wild crows

Кудри мои русые, очи мои светлые,

Травами, бурьяном, да полынью зарастут.

Кости мои белые, сердце мое смелое,

Коршуны да вороны по степи разнесут