Post by ARTHUR KELLY on Feb 22, 2010 3:19:51 GMT -5
Slán leat mo chuisle: Goodbye my pulse or goodbye my love
Slán leat, Dia dhuit: Goodbye and God bless
Nár laga Dia do lámh: May God not weaken your hand
Slán leat mo chuisle, with a tear besides,
I’ll miss your ways and beauty;
I know where the final decision resides,
Torn between love and duty.
For all that nations demand and command,
I pray for your safe return;
From the lethal grip of a ravaged Helmand,
And bury deep my concern.
If I hold my breath for long enough,
Then maybe I’ll catch a glimpse;
Of the blood, sweat and mine – riddled bluff,
That politics just questions and limps.
Slán leat, Dia dhuit you lovingly mime,
Your bus departs, I’m alone;
With the sins of our ways growing all the time,
Like pigeon shit on the pavestone.
From this side of my TV, my love, I can’t feel,
The anguish, the hurt and the pain;
Coffins and hearses end up as surreal,
With names reeled off once again.
Our carry-on over here leaves me peevish,
The drunk, the stoned and the greedy;
While you lay down your life for us, unselfish,
We pub- crawl half dressed and seedy.
Nár laga Dia do lámh, my sweet,
On the other side of the world;
Blasted by culture, sand and the heat,
The Union Jack is unfurled.
As you run the gauntlet of afghan roads,
Which God is it mocks our love?
While another insurgent device explodes,
The Devil prevails the White Dove.
The shockwaves propagate rumours and fears
God willing, you’ll finish your tour
Come home in one piece to flags and cheers
To my arms: safe and secure.
Slán leat, Dia dhuit: Goodbye and God bless
Nár laga Dia do lámh: May God not weaken your hand
Slán leat mo chuisle, with a tear besides,
I’ll miss your ways and beauty;
I know where the final decision resides,
Torn between love and duty.
For all that nations demand and command,
I pray for your safe return;
From the lethal grip of a ravaged Helmand,
And bury deep my concern.
If I hold my breath for long enough,
Then maybe I’ll catch a glimpse;
Of the blood, sweat and mine – riddled bluff,
That politics just questions and limps.
Slán leat, Dia dhuit you lovingly mime,
Your bus departs, I’m alone;
With the sins of our ways growing all the time,
Like pigeon shit on the pavestone.
From this side of my TV, my love, I can’t feel,
The anguish, the hurt and the pain;
Coffins and hearses end up as surreal,
With names reeled off once again.
Our carry-on over here leaves me peevish,
The drunk, the stoned and the greedy;
While you lay down your life for us, unselfish,
We pub- crawl half dressed and seedy.
Nár laga Dia do lámh, my sweet,
On the other side of the world;
Blasted by culture, sand and the heat,
The Union Jack is unfurled.
As you run the gauntlet of afghan roads,
Which God is it mocks our love?
While another insurgent device explodes,
The Devil prevails the White Dove.
The shockwaves propagate rumours and fears
God willing, you’ll finish your tour
Come home in one piece to flags and cheers
To my arms: safe and secure.