Leaving Beirut Lyrics
| Song | Leaving Beirut |
| Artist | Roger Waters |
| Album | To Kill the Child |
| Download | Image LRC TXT |
| [01:41.500] | So we left Beirut Willa and I |
| [01:44.500] | He headed East to Baghdad and the rest of it |
| [01:48.000] | I set out North on home |
| [01:51.200] | I walked the five or six miles to the last of the street lamps |
| [01:54.900] | And hunkered in the kerbside dusk |
| [01:57.000] | Holding out my thumb |
| [01:58.500] | In no great hope at the ramshackle procession of home bound traffic |
| [02:03.500] | Success! |
| [02:05.500] | An ancient Mercedes 'dolmus ' |
| [02:08.000] | The ubiquitous Arab shared taxi drew up |
| [02:11.800] | I turned out my pockets and shrugged at the driver |
| [02:15.500] | " J'ai pas de l'argent " “ |
| [02:17.900] | " Venez! " A soft voice from the back seat “ |
| [02:20.800] | The driver lent wearily across and pushed open the back door |
| [02:25.200] | I stooped to look inside at the two men there |
| [02:28.000] | One besuited, bespectacled, moustached, irritated, distant, late |
| [02:33.800] | The other, the one who had spoken, |
| [02:36.800] | Frail, fifty five-ish, bald, sallow, in a short sleeved pale blue cotton shirt |
| [02:43.000] | With one biro in the breast pocket |
| [02:45.000] | A clerk maybe, slightly sunken in the seat |
| [02:48.800] | "Venez!" He said again, and smiled “ |
| [02:52.300] | "Mais j'ai pas de l'argent" “ |
| [02:53.600] | "Oui, Oui, d'accord, Venez!" |
| [02:58.600] | Are these the people that we should bomb |
| [03:05.300] | Are we so sure they mean us harm |
| [03:12.500] | Is this our pleasure, punishment or crime |
| [03:19.000] | Is this a mountain that we really want to climb |
| [03:25.900] | The road is hard, hard and long |
| [03:32.750] | Put down that two by four |
| [03:35.400] | This man would never turn you from his door |
| [03:39.900] | Oh George! Oh George! |
| [03:45.600] | That Texas education must have fucked you up when you were very small |
| [03:53.600] | He beckoned with a small arthritic motion of his hand |
| [03:57.300] | Fingers together like a child waving goodbye |
| [04:01.600] | The driver put my old Hofner guitar in the boot with my rucksack |
| [04:05.100] | And off we went |
| [04:07.650] | " Vous etes Francais, monsieur? " “ |
| [04:09.300] | " Non, Anglais " |
| [04:10.400] | " Ah! Anglais " |
| [04:13.000] | " Est-ce que vous parlais Anglais, Monsieur? " “ |
| [04:14.950] | "Non, je regrette" “ |
| [04:17.200] | And so on |
| [04:18.300] | In small talk between strangers, his French alien but correct |
| [04:23.000] | Mine halting but eager to please |
| [04:25.300] | A lift, after all, is a lift |
| [04:28.750] | Late moustache left us brusquely |
| [04:30.800] | And some miles later the dolmus slowed at a crossroads lit by a single lightbulb |
| [04:35.150] | Swung through a U-turn and stopped in a cloud of dust |
| [04:39.000] | I opened the door and got out |
| [04:41.100] | But my benefactor made no move to follow |
| [04:47.400] | The driver dumped my guitar and rucksack at my feet |
| [04:49.800] | And waving away my thanks returned to the boot |
| [04:52.300] | Only to reappear with a pair of alloy crutches |
| [04:55.300] | Which he leaned against the rear wing of the Mercedes. |
| [04:59.050] | He reached into the car and lifted my companion out |
| [05:02.000] | Only one leg, the second trouser leg neatly pinned beneath a vacant hip |
| [05:06.900] | " Monsieur, si vous voulez, ca sera un honneur pour nous “ |
| [05:09.700] | Si vous venez avec moi a la maison pour manger avec ma femme " |
| [05:15.700] | When I was 17 my mother, bless her heart, fulfilled my summer dream |
| [05:25.000] | She handed me the keys to the car |
| [05:29.400] | We motored down to Paris, fuelled with Dexedrine and booze |
| [05:35.350] | Got bust in Antibes by the cops |
| [05:38.600] | And fleeced in Naples by the wops |
| [05:43.000] | But everyone was kind to us, we were the English dudes |
| [05:49.100] | Our dads had helped them win the war |
| [05:52.470] | When we all knew what we were fighting for |
| [05:56.800] | But now an Englishman abroad is just a US stooge |
| [06:02.750] | The bulldog is a poodle snapping round the scoundrel's last refuge |
| [06:10.500] | "Ma femme", thank God! Monopod but not queer “ |
| [06:16.690] | The taxi drove off leaving us in the dim light of the swinging bulb |
| [06:20.650] | No building in sight |
| [06:22.200] | What the hell |
| [06:23.900] | "Merci monsieur" “ |
| [06:25.250] | "Bon, Venez!" |
| [06:25.950] | His faced creased in pleasure, he set off in front of me |
| [06:30.310] | Swinging his leg between the crutches with agonising care |
| [06:33.700] | Up the dusty side road into the darkness |
| [06:37.900] | After half an hour we'd gone maybe half a mile |
| [06:40.700] | When on the right I made out the low profile of a building |
| [06:44.500] | He called out in Arabic to announce our arrival |
| [06:47.550] | And after some scuffling inside a lamp was lit |
| [06:50.700] | And the changing angle of light in the wide crack under the door |
| [06:53.850] | Signalled the approach of someone within |
| [07:01.300] | The door creaked open and there, holding a biblical looking oil lamp |
| [07:05.200] | Stood a squat, moustached woman, stooped smiling up at us |
| [07:12.150] | She stood aside to let us in and as she turned |
| [07:14.850] | I saw the reason for her stoop |
| [07:16.120] | She carried on her back a shocking hump |
| [07:19.550] | I nodded and smiled back at her in greeting, fighting for control |
| [07:26.150] | The gentleness between the one-legged man and his monstrous wife |
| [07:29.395] | America, America, please hear us when we call |
| [07:29.900] | Almost too much for me |
| [07:31.900] | Is gentleness too much for us |
| [07:35.250] | Should gentleness be filed along with empathy |
| [07:42.100] | We feel for someone else's child |
| [07:46.030] | Every time a smart bomb does its sums and gets it wrong |
| [07:52.725] | Someone else's child dies and equities in defence rise |
| [08:05.875] | You got hip-hop, be-bop, hustle and bustle |
| [08:09.150] | You got Atticus Finch |
| [08:11.250] | You got Jane Russell |
| [08:12.900] | You got freedom of speech |
| [08:14.900] | You got great beaches, wildernesses and malls |
| [08:19.850] | Don't let the might, the Christian right, fuck it all up |
| [08:24.950] | For you and the rest of the world |
| [08:28.100] | They talked excitedly |
| [08:29.850] | She went to take his crutches in routine of care |
| [08:32.800] | He chiding, gestured |
| [08:35.150] | We have a guest |
| [08:36.700] | She embarrassed by her faux pas |
| [08:38.650] | Took my things and laid them gently in the corner |
| [08:42.450] | "Du the?" |
| [08:44.500] | We sat on meagre cushions in one corner of the single room |
| [08:47.500] | The floor was earth packed hard and by one wall a raised platform |
| [08:51.700] | Some six feet by four covered by a simple sheet, the bed |
| [08:57.000] | The hunchback busied herself with small copper pots over an open hearth |
| [09:01.100] | And brought us tea, hot and sweet |
| [09:03.865] | And so to dinner |
| [09:05.400] | Flat, unleavened bread, + thin |
| [09:08.050] | Cooked in an iron skillet in hearth |
| [09:10.430] | Then folded and dipped into the soft insides of female sea urchins |
| [09:19.600] | She would hear of nothing else, I was their guest |
| [09:19.725] | My hostess did not eat, I ate her dinner |
| [09:22.900] | And then she retired behind a curtain |
| [09:25.675] | And left the men to sit drinking thimbleful of Arak |
| [09:29.500] | Carefully poured from a small bottle with a faded label |
| [09:32.900] | Soon she reappeared, radiant |
| [09:35.695] | Carrying in her arms their pride and joy, their child. |
| [09:41.880] | I'd never seen a squint like that |
| [09:44.965] | So severe that as one eye looked out the other disappeared behind its nose |
| [09:49.880] | Not in my name, Tony, you great war leader you |
| [09:56.200] | Terror is still terror, whosoever gets to frame the rules |
| [10:03.000] | History's not written by the vanquished or the damned |
| [10:10.435] | Now we are Genghis Khan, Lucrezia Borghia, Son of Sam |
| [10:16.400] | In 1961 they took this child into their home |
| [10:23.300] | I wonder what became of them |
| [10:26.550] | In the cauldron that was Lebanon |
| [10:31.020] | If I could find them now, could I make amends? |
| [10:37.800] | How does the story end? |
| [10:45.000] | And so to bed, me that is, not them |
| [10:51.000] | Of course they slept on the floor behind a curtain |
| [10:55.000] | Whilst I lay awake all night on their earthen bed |
| [10:58.850] | Then came the dawn and then their quiet stirrings |
| [11:02.350] | I turned North, my guitar over my shoulder |
| [11:02.600] | Careful not to wake the guest |
| [11:05.200] | I yawned in great pretence |
| [11:05.800] | And the first hot gust of wind |
| [11:07.400] | And took the proffered bowl of water heated up and washed |
| [11:08.100] | Quickly dried the salt tears from my young cheeks. |
| [11:10.750] | And sipped my coffee in its tiny cup |
| [11:13.330] | And then with much "merci-ing" and bowing and shaking of hands |
| [11:17.050] | We left the woman to her chores |
| [11:19.600] | And we men made our way back to the crossroads |
| [11:23.300] | The painful slowness of our progress accentuated by the brilliant morning light |
| [11:32.197] | The dolmus duly reappeared |
| [11:35.000] | My host gave me one crutch and leaning on the other |
| [11:37.550] | Shook my hand and smiled |
| [11:40.000] | "Merci, monsieur," I said “ |
| [11:42.200] | " De rien " “ |
| [11:43.850] | " Et merci a votre femme, elle est tres gentille " “ |
| [11:49.600] | Giving up his other crutch |
| [11:50.850] | He allowed himself to be folded into the back seat again |
| [11:54.500] | "Bon voyage, monsieur," he said “ |
| [11:56.945] | And half bowed as the taxi headed south towards the city |
| [01:41.500] | So we left Beirut Willa and I |
| [01:44.500] | He headed East to Baghdad and the rest of it |
| [01:48.000] | I set out North on home |
| [01:51.200] | I walked the five or six miles to the last of the street lamps |
| [01:54.900] | And hunkered in the kerbside dusk |
| [01:57.000] | Holding out my thumb |
| [01:58.500] | In no great hope at the ramshackle procession of home bound traffic |
| [02:03.500] | Success! |
| [02:05.500] | An ancient Mercedes ' dolmus ' |
| [02:08.000] | The ubiquitous Arab shared taxi drew up |
| [02:11.800] | I turned out my pockets and shrugged at the driver |
| [02:15.500] | " J' ai pas de l' argent " " |
| [02:17.900] | " Venez! " A soft voice from the back seat " |
| [02:20.800] | The driver lent wearily across and pushed open the back door |
| [02:25.200] | I stooped to look inside at the two men there |
| [02:28.000] | One besuited, bespectacled, moustached, irritated, distant, late |
| [02:33.800] | The other, the one who had spoken, |
| [02:36.800] | Frail, fifty fiveish, bald, sallow, in a short sleeved pale blue cotton shirt |
| [02:43.000] | With one biro in the breast pocket |
| [02:45.000] | A clerk maybe, slightly sunken in the seat |
| [02:48.800] | " Venez!" He said again, and smiled " |
| [02:52.300] | " Mais j' ai pas de l' argent" " |
| [02:53.600] | " Oui, Oui, d' accord, Venez!" |
| [02:58.600] | Are these the people that we should bomb |
| [03:05.300] | Are we so sure they mean us harm |
| [03:12.500] | Is this our pleasure, punishment or crime |
| [03:19.000] | Is this a mountain that we really want to climb |
| [03:25.900] | The road is hard, hard and long |
| [03:32.750] | Put down that two by four |
| [03:35.400] | This man would never turn you from his door |
| [03:39.900] | Oh George! Oh George! |
| [03:45.600] | That Texas education must have fucked you up when you were very small |
| [03:53.600] | He beckoned with a small arthritic motion of his hand |
| [03:57.300] | Fingers together like a child waving goodbye |
| [04:01.600] | The driver put my old Hofner guitar in the boot with my rucksack |
| [04:05.100] | And off we went |
| [04:07.650] | " Vous etes Francais, monsieur? " " |
| [04:09.300] | " Non, Anglais " |
| [04:10.400] | " Ah! Anglais " |
| [04:13.000] | " Estce que vous parlais Anglais, Monsieur? " " |
| [04:14.950] | " Non, je regrette" " |
| [04:17.200] | And so on |
| [04:18.300] | In small talk between strangers, his French alien but correct |
| [04:23.000] | Mine halting but eager to please |
| [04:25.300] | A lift, after all, is a lift |
| [04:28.750] | Late moustache left us brusquely |
| [04:30.800] | And some miles later the dolmus slowed at a crossroads lit by a single lightbulb |
| [04:35.150] | Swung through a Uturn and stopped in a cloud of dust |
| [04:39.000] | I opened the door and got out |
| [04:41.100] | But my benefactor made no move to follow |
| [04:47.400] | The driver dumped my guitar and rucksack at my feet |
| [04:49.800] | And waving away my thanks returned to the boot |
| [04:52.300] | Only to reappear with a pair of alloy crutches |
| [04:55.300] | Which he leaned against the rear wing of the Mercedes. |
| [04:59.050] | He reached into the car and lifted my companion out |
| [05:02.000] | Only one leg, the second trouser leg neatly pinned beneath a vacant hip |
| [05:06.900] | " Monsieur, si vous voulez, ca sera un honneur pour nous " |
| [05:09.700] | Si vous venez avec moi a la maison pour manger avec ma femme " |
| [05:15.700] | When I was 17 my mother, bless her heart, fulfilled my summer dream |
| [05:25.000] | She handed me the keys to the car |
| [05:29.400] | We motored down to Paris, fuelled with Dexedrine and booze |
| [05:35.350] | Got bust in Antibes by the cops |
| [05:38.600] | And fleeced in Naples by the wops |
| [05:43.000] | But everyone was kind to us, we were the English dudes |
| [05:49.100] | Our dads had helped them win the war |
| [05:52.470] | When we all knew what we were fighting for |
| [05:56.800] | But now an Englishman abroad is just a US stooge |
| [06:02.750] | The bulldog is a poodle snapping round the scoundrel' s last refuge |
| [06:10.500] | " Ma femme", thank God! Monopod but not queer " |
| [06:16.690] | The taxi drove off leaving us in the dim light of the swinging bulb |
| [06:20.650] | No building in sight |
| [06:22.200] | What the hell |
| [06:23.900] | " Merci monsieur" " |
| [06:25.250] | " Bon, Venez!" |
| [06:25.950] | His faced creased in pleasure, he set off in front of me |
| [06:30.310] | Swinging his leg between the crutches with agonising care |
| [06:33.700] | Up the dusty side road into the darkness |
| [06:37.900] | After half an hour we' d gone maybe half a mile |
| [06:40.700] | When on the right I made out the low profile of a building |
| [06:44.500] | He called out in Arabic to announce our arrival |
| [06:47.550] | And after some scuffling inside a lamp was lit |
| [06:50.700] | And the changing angle of light in the wide crack under the door |
| [06:53.850] | Signalled the approach of someone within |
| [07:01.300] | The door creaked open and there, holding a biblical looking oil lamp |
| [07:05.200] | Stood a squat, moustached woman, stooped smiling up at us |
| [07:12.150] | She stood aside to let us in and as she turned |
| [07:14.850] | I saw the reason for her stoop |
| [07:16.120] | She carried on her back a shocking hump |
| [07:19.550] | I nodded and smiled back at her in greeting, fighting for control |
| [07:26.150] | The gentleness between the onelegged man and his monstrous wife |
| [07:29.395] | America, America, please hear us when we call |
| [07:29.900] | Almost too much for me |
| [07:31.900] | Is gentleness too much for us |
| [07:35.250] | Should gentleness be filed along with empathy |
| [07:42.100] | We feel for someone else' s child |
| [07:46.030] | Every time a smart bomb does its sums and gets it wrong |
| [07:52.725] | Someone else' s child dies and equities in defence rise |
| [08:05.875] | You got hiphop, bebop, hustle and bustle |
| [08:09.150] | You got Atticus Finch |
| [08:11.250] | You got Jane Russell |
| [08:12.900] | You got freedom of speech |
| [08:14.900] | You got great beaches, wildernesses and malls |
| [08:19.850] | Don' t let the might, the Christian right, fuck it all up |
| [08:24.950] | For you and the rest of the world |
| [08:28.100] | They talked excitedly |
| [08:29.850] | She went to take his crutches in routine of care |
| [08:32.800] | He chiding, gestured |
| [08:35.150] | We have a guest |
| [08:36.700] | She embarrassed by her faux pas |
| [08:38.650] | Took my things and laid them gently in the corner |
| [08:42.450] | " Du the?" |
| [08:44.500] | We sat on meagre cushions in one corner of the single room |
| [08:47.500] | The floor was earth packed hard and by one wall a raised platform |
| [08:51.700] | Some six feet by four covered by a simple sheet, the bed |
| [08:57.000] | The hunchback busied herself with small copper pots over an open hearth |
| [09:01.100] | And brought us tea, hot and sweet |
| [09:03.865] | And so to dinner |
| [09:05.400] | Flat, unleavened bread, thin |
| [09:08.050] | Cooked in an iron skillet in hearth |
| [09:10.430] | Then folded and dipped into the soft insides of female sea urchins |
| [09:19.600] | She would hear of nothing else, I was their guest |
| [09:19.725] | My hostess did not eat, I ate her dinner |
| [09:22.900] | And then she retired behind a curtain |
| [09:25.675] | And left the men to sit drinking thimbleful of Arak |
| [09:29.500] | Carefully poured from a small bottle with a faded label |
| [09:32.900] | Soon she reappeared, radiant |
| [09:35.695] | Carrying in her arms their pride and joy, their child. |
| [09:41.880] | I' d never seen a squint like that |
| [09:44.965] | So severe that as one eye looked out the other disappeared behind its nose |
| [09:49.880] | Not in my name, Tony, you great war leader you |
| [09:56.200] | Terror is still terror, whosoever gets to frame the rules |
| [10:03.000] | History' s not written by the vanquished or the damned |
| [10:10.435] | Now we are Genghis Khan, Lucrezia Borghia, Son of Sam |
| [10:16.400] | In 1961 they took this child into their home |
| [10:23.300] | I wonder what became of them |
| [10:26.550] | In the cauldron that was Lebanon |
| [10:31.020] | If I could find them now, could I make amends? |
| [10:37.800] | How does the story end? |
| [10:45.000] | And so to bed, me that is, not them |
| [10:51.000] | Of course they slept on the floor behind a curtain |
| [10:55.000] | Whilst I lay awake all night on their earthen bed |
| [10:58.850] | Then came the dawn and then their quiet stirrings |
| [11:02.350] | I turned North, my guitar over my shoulder |
| [11:02.600] | Careful not to wake the guest |
| [11:05.200] | I yawned in great pretence |
| [11:05.800] | And the first hot gust of wind |
| [11:07.400] | And took the proffered bowl of water heated up and washed |
| [11:08.100] | Quickly dried the salt tears from my young cheeks. |
| [11:10.750] | And sipped my coffee in its tiny cup |
| [11:13.330] | And then with much " merciing" and bowing and shaking of hands |
| [11:17.050] | We left the woman to her chores |
| [11:19.600] | And we men made our way back to the crossroads |
| [11:23.300] | The painful slowness of our progress accentuated by the brilliant morning light |
| [11:32.197] | The dolmus duly reappeared |
| [11:35.000] | My host gave me one crutch and leaning on the other |
| [11:37.550] | Shook my hand and smiled |
| [11:40.000] | " Merci, monsieur," I said " |
| [11:42.200] | " De rien " " |
| [11:43.850] | " Et merci a votre femme, elle est tres gentille " " |
| [11:49.600] | Giving up his other crutch |
| [11:50.850] | He allowed himself to be folded into the back seat again |
| [11:54.500] | " Bon voyage, monsieur," he said " |
| [11:56.945] | And half bowed as the taxi headed south towards the city |
| [01:41.500] | So we left Beirut Willa and I |
| [01:44.500] | He headed East to Baghdad and the rest of it |
| [01:48.000] | I set out North on home |
| [01:51.200] | I walked the five or six miles to the last of the street lamps |
| [01:54.900] | And hunkered in the kerbside dusk |
| [01:57.000] | Holding out my thumb |
| [01:58.500] | In no great hope at the ramshackle procession of home bound traffic |
| [02:03.500] | Success! |
| [02:05.500] | An ancient Mercedes ' dolmus ' |
| [02:08.000] | The ubiquitous Arab shared taxi drew up |
| [02:11.800] | I turned out my pockets and shrugged at the driver |
| [02:15.500] | " J' ai pas de l' argent " " |
| [02:17.900] | " Venez! " A soft voice from the back seat " |
| [02:20.800] | The driver lent wearily across and pushed open the back door |
| [02:25.200] | I stooped to look inside at the two men there |
| [02:28.000] | One besuited, bespectacled, moustached, irritated, distant, late |
| [02:33.800] | The other, the one who had spoken, |
| [02:36.800] | Frail, fifty fiveish, bald, sallow, in a short sleeved pale blue cotton shirt |
| [02:43.000] | With one biro in the breast pocket |
| [02:45.000] | A clerk maybe, slightly sunken in the seat |
| [02:48.800] | " Venez!" He said again, and smiled " |
| [02:52.300] | " Mais j' ai pas de l' argent" " |
| [02:53.600] | " Oui, Oui, d' accord, Venez!" |
| [02:58.600] | Are these the people that we should bomb |
| [03:05.300] | Are we so sure they mean us harm |
| [03:12.500] | Is this our pleasure, punishment or crime |
| [03:19.000] | Is this a mountain that we really want to climb |
| [03:25.900] | The road is hard, hard and long |
| [03:32.750] | Put down that two by four |
| [03:35.400] | This man would never turn you from his door |
| [03:39.900] | Oh George! Oh George! |
| [03:45.600] | That Texas education must have fucked you up when you were very small |
| [03:53.600] | He beckoned with a small arthritic motion of his hand |
| [03:57.300] | Fingers together like a child waving goodbye |
| [04:01.600] | The driver put my old Hofner guitar in the boot with my rucksack |
| [04:05.100] | And off we went |
| [04:07.650] | " Vous etes Francais, monsieur? " " |
| [04:09.300] | " Non, Anglais " |
| [04:10.400] | " Ah! Anglais " |
| [04:13.000] | " Estce que vous parlais Anglais, Monsieur? " " |
| [04:14.950] | " Non, je regrette" " |
| [04:17.200] | And so on |
| [04:18.300] | In small talk between strangers, his French alien but correct |
| [04:23.000] | Mine halting but eager to please |
| [04:25.300] | A lift, after all, is a lift |
| [04:28.750] | Late moustache left us brusquely |
| [04:30.800] | And some miles later the dolmus slowed at a crossroads lit by a single lightbulb |
| [04:35.150] | Swung through a Uturn and stopped in a cloud of dust |
| [04:39.000] | I opened the door and got out |
| [04:41.100] | But my benefactor made no move to follow |
| [04:47.400] | The driver dumped my guitar and rucksack at my feet |
| [04:49.800] | And waving away my thanks returned to the boot |
| [04:52.300] | Only to reappear with a pair of alloy crutches |
| [04:55.300] | Which he leaned against the rear wing of the Mercedes. |
| [04:59.050] | He reached into the car and lifted my companion out |
| [05:02.000] | Only one leg, the second trouser leg neatly pinned beneath a vacant hip |
| [05:06.900] | " Monsieur, si vous voulez, ca sera un honneur pour nous " |
| [05:09.700] | Si vous venez avec moi a la maison pour manger avec ma femme " |
| [05:15.700] | When I was 17 my mother, bless her heart, fulfilled my summer dream |
| [05:25.000] | She handed me the keys to the car |
| [05:29.400] | We motored down to Paris, fuelled with Dexedrine and booze |
| [05:35.350] | Got bust in Antibes by the cops |
| [05:38.600] | And fleeced in Naples by the wops |
| [05:43.000] | But everyone was kind to us, we were the English dudes |
| [05:49.100] | Our dads had helped them win the war |
| [05:52.470] | When we all knew what we were fighting for |
| [05:56.800] | But now an Englishman abroad is just a US stooge |
| [06:02.750] | The bulldog is a poodle snapping round the scoundrel' s last refuge |
| [06:10.500] | " Ma femme", thank God! Monopod but not queer " |
| [06:16.690] | The taxi drove off leaving us in the dim light of the swinging bulb |
| [06:20.650] | No building in sight |
| [06:22.200] | What the hell |
| [06:23.900] | " Merci monsieur" " |
| [06:25.250] | " Bon, Venez!" |
| [06:25.950] | His faced creased in pleasure, he set off in front of me |
| [06:30.310] | Swinging his leg between the crutches with agonising care |
| [06:33.700] | Up the dusty side road into the darkness |
| [06:37.900] | After half an hour we' d gone maybe half a mile |
| [06:40.700] | When on the right I made out the low profile of a building |
| [06:44.500] | He called out in Arabic to announce our arrival |
| [06:47.550] | And after some scuffling inside a lamp was lit |
| [06:50.700] | And the changing angle of light in the wide crack under the door |
| [06:53.850] | Signalled the approach of someone within |
| [07:01.300] | The door creaked open and there, holding a biblical looking oil lamp |
| [07:05.200] | Stood a squat, moustached woman, stooped smiling up at us |
| [07:12.150] | She stood aside to let us in and as she turned |
| [07:14.850] | I saw the reason for her stoop |
| [07:16.120] | She carried on her back a shocking hump |
| [07:19.550] | I nodded and smiled back at her in greeting, fighting for control |
| [07:26.150] | The gentleness between the onelegged man and his monstrous wife |
| [07:29.395] | America, America, please hear us when we call |
| [07:29.900] | Almost too much for me |
| [07:31.900] | Is gentleness too much for us |
| [07:35.250] | Should gentleness be filed along with empathy |
| [07:42.100] | We feel for someone else' s child |
| [07:46.030] | Every time a smart bomb does its sums and gets it wrong |
| [07:52.725] | Someone else' s child dies and equities in defence rise |
| [08:05.875] | You got hiphop, bebop, hustle and bustle |
| [08:09.150] | You got Atticus Finch |
| [08:11.250] | You got Jane Russell |
| [08:12.900] | You got freedom of speech |
| [08:14.900] | You got great beaches, wildernesses and malls |
| [08:19.850] | Don' t let the might, the Christian right, fuck it all up |
| [08:24.950] | For you and the rest of the world |
| [08:28.100] | They talked excitedly |
| [08:29.850] | She went to take his crutches in routine of care |
| [08:32.800] | He chiding, gestured |
| [08:35.150] | We have a guest |
| [08:36.700] | She embarrassed by her faux pas |
| [08:38.650] | Took my things and laid them gently in the corner |
| [08:42.450] | " Du the?" |
| [08:44.500] | We sat on meagre cushions in one corner of the single room |
| [08:47.500] | The floor was earth packed hard and by one wall a raised platform |
| [08:51.700] | Some six feet by four covered by a simple sheet, the bed |
| [08:57.000] | The hunchback busied herself with small copper pots over an open hearth |
| [09:01.100] | And brought us tea, hot and sweet |
| [09:03.865] | And so to dinner |
| [09:05.400] | Flat, unleavened bread, thin |
| [09:08.050] | Cooked in an iron skillet in hearth |
| [09:10.430] | Then folded and dipped into the soft insides of female sea urchins |
| [09:19.600] | She would hear of nothing else, I was their guest |
| [09:19.725] | My hostess did not eat, I ate her dinner |
| [09:22.900] | And then she retired behind a curtain |
| [09:25.675] | And left the men to sit drinking thimbleful of Arak |
| [09:29.500] | Carefully poured from a small bottle with a faded label |
| [09:32.900] | Soon she reappeared, radiant |
| [09:35.695] | Carrying in her arms their pride and joy, their child. |
| [09:41.880] | I' d never seen a squint like that |
| [09:44.965] | So severe that as one eye looked out the other disappeared behind its nose |
| [09:49.880] | Not in my name, Tony, you great war leader you |
| [09:56.200] | Terror is still terror, whosoever gets to frame the rules |
| [10:03.000] | History' s not written by the vanquished or the damned |
| [10:10.435] | Now we are Genghis Khan, Lucrezia Borghia, Son of Sam |
| [10:16.400] | In 1961 they took this child into their home |
| [10:23.300] | I wonder what became of them |
| [10:26.550] | In the cauldron that was Lebanon |
| [10:31.020] | If I could find them now, could I make amends? |
| [10:37.800] | How does the story end? |
| [10:45.000] | And so to bed, me that is, not them |
| [10:51.000] | Of course they slept on the floor behind a curtain |
| [10:55.000] | Whilst I lay awake all night on their earthen bed |
| [10:58.850] | Then came the dawn and then their quiet stirrings |
| [11:02.350] | I turned North, my guitar over my shoulder |
| [11:02.600] | Careful not to wake the guest |
| [11:05.200] | I yawned in great pretence |
| [11:05.800] | And the first hot gust of wind |
| [11:07.400] | And took the proffered bowl of water heated up and washed |
| [11:08.100] | Quickly dried the salt tears from my young cheeks. |
| [11:10.750] | And sipped my coffee in its tiny cup |
| [11:13.330] | And then with much " merciing" and bowing and shaking of hands |
| [11:17.050] | We left the woman to her chores |
| [11:19.600] | And we men made our way back to the crossroads |
| [11:23.300] | The painful slowness of our progress accentuated by the brilliant morning light |
| [11:32.197] | The dolmus duly reappeared |
| [11:35.000] | My host gave me one crutch and leaning on the other |
| [11:37.550] | Shook my hand and smiled |
| [11:40.000] | " Merci, monsieur," I said " |
| [11:42.200] | " De rien " " |
| [11:43.850] | " Et merci a votre femme, elle est tres gentille " " |
| [11:49.600] | Giving up his other crutch |
| [11:50.850] | He allowed himself to be folded into the back seat again |
| [11:54.500] | " Bon voyage, monsieur," he said " |
| [11:56.945] | And half bowed as the taxi headed south towards the city |
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