Josie was good as could be;
She loved him only, but he went off to sea,
And it showed her the way of the world:
The boys, and a lonely girl.
No one was satisfied:
At least not her, though she tried and she tried,
Till she stuck one day with the best of the clay,
And a baby who cried in the night.
San Carlos Water, eight miles or longer,
A place where there's no place to hide;
A pocket of wrongs, with rockets and bombs
From drizzling Fifties' skies.
"Mano a mano, venguemos Belgrano,
Las islas Malvinas serran!"
I remember the night the Antelope died:
She died in San Carlos Water.
Josie wrote home for free,
The postmark saying it was "somewhere at sea";
He'd been all the way round the world,
And for him there was just one girl.
He told her he'd be home soon?
The tiny ship he's on was quick as a tune:
They'd fought the Argentines twice in one day,
And Antelope came clean away.
San Carlos Water, eight miles or longer,
A place where there's no place to hide;
A pocket of wrongs, with rockets and bombs
From drizzling Fifties' skies.
"Mano a mano, venguemos Belgrano,
Las islas Malvinas serran!"
I remember the night the Antelope died:
She died in San Carlos Water.
Fever took hold that night,
Burning, burning, so she turned out the light,
When the man she'd took for her own
Called up on the public-bar phone:
"Baby, I think you should see:
Bloody Falklands is all over TV.
The Argies have hammered the ships night and day,
And one just blew up in the bay."
San Carlos Water, eight miles or longer,
A place where there's no place to hide;
A pocket of wrongs, with rockets and bombs
From drizzling Fifties' skies.
"Mano a mano, venguemos Belgrano,
Las islas Malvinas serran!"
I remember the night the Antelope died:
She died in San Carlos Water.
Years have come and they've flown;
Her little baby has grown and he's grown.
The man she took up with is gone
Went working, and works off and on.
But Josie, her growing boy,
Sometimes a heartache, but always her joy,
Looks like a man, just as good as could be
Who never came home from the sea.
San Carlos Water, eight miles or longer,
A place where there's no place to hide;
A pocket of wrongs, with rockets and bombs
From drizzling Fifties' skies.
"Mano a mano, venguemos Belgrano,
Las islas Malvinas serran!"
I remember the night the Antelope died:
She died in San Carlos Water.
Teksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa. |
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