we are the world

WORDS and MUSIC by
MICHAEL JACKSON and LIONEL RICHIE
Released as a single in 1985

This song was released in the run-up to the 1985 Band-Aid concert by USA [United Singers of America] for Africa. As good as the intentions of the organisers were, the money raised by this and the Band-Aid concert was largely diverted into the hands of the warlords who had exacerbated the famine in the Ethiopian region of Tigray in the first place (see post below)

There comes a time
When we head a certain call
When the world must come together as one
There are people dying
And it's time to lend a hand to life
The greatest gift of all

We can't go on
Pretneding day by day
That someone, somewhere will soon make a change
We are all a part of
God's great big family
And the truth, you know love is all we need

We are the world
We are the children
We are the ones who make a brighter day
So let's start giving
There's a choice we're making
We're saving our own lives
It's true we'll make a better day
Just you and me

Send them your heart
So they'll know that someone cares
And their lives will be stronger and free
As God has shown us by turning stone to bread
So we all must lend a helping hand

We are the world
We are the children
We are the ones who make a brighter day
So let's start giving
There's a choice we're making
We're saving our own lives
It's true we'll make a better day
Just you and me

When you're down and out
There seems no hope at all
But if you just believe
There's no way we can fall
Well, well, well, well, let us realize
That a change will only come
When we stand together as one

We are the world
We are the children
We are the ones who make a brighter day
So let's start giving
There's a choice we're making
We're saving our own lives
It's true we'll make a better day
Just you and me

do they know it's Christmas?

WORDS and MUSIC by
BOB GELDOF and MIDGE URE
Released as a single in 1984
and twice subsequently

The ultimate song of unfulfilled promise: as part of the Band-Aid process in 1985, almost a billion pounds ($1.4bn) made its way to Africa. Much of this money cme not from the single and and concert but from governments, who would deal only at governmental level. Thus much of the money went to Ethioian dictator Mengistu Haile Mariam, who had much exacerbated the crisis in Tigray by making war on the region - but this was never reported in Michael Buerk's seminal dispatch nor by Bob Geldof, who were anxious not to give the public reasons not to donate.

It's Christmas time
There's no need to be afraid
At Christmas time, we let in light and we banish shade
And in our world of plenty we can spread a smile of joy
Throw your arms around the world at Christmas time

But say a prayer
Pray for the other ones
At Christmas time it's hard, but when you're having fun
There's a world outside your window
And it's a world of dread and fear
Where the only water flowing is the bitter sting of tears
And the Christmas bells that ring there
Are the clanging chimes of doom
Well tonight thank God it's them instead of you

And there won't be snow in Africa this Christmas time
The greatest gift they'll get this year is life
Where nothing ever grows
No rain nor rivers flow
Do they know it's Christmas time at all

(Here's to you) raise a glass for everyone
(Here's to them) underneath that burning sun
Do they know it's Christmas time at all

Feed the world, feed the world, feed the world
Let them know it's Christmas time again

Feed the world
Let them know it's Christmas time again
Feed the world
Let them know it's Christmas time again
Feed the world
Let them know it's Christmas time again
Feed the world
Let them know it's Christmas time again

I'll find my way home

Words by JON ANDERSON
Music by EVANGELOS PAPATHANASSIOU (VANGELIS)
From the album
THE FRIENDS OF MR CAIRO (SECOND EDITION)
And as a single (1981)

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You ask me where to begin
Am I so lost in my sin
You ask me where did I fall
I'll say I can't tell you when
But if my spirit is lost
How will I find what is near
Don't question I'm not alone
Somehow I'll find my way home

My sun shall rise in the east
So shall my heart be at peace
And if you're asking me when
I'll say it starts at the end
You know your will to be free
Is matched with love secretly
And talk will alter your prayer
Somehow you'll find you are there

Your friend is close by your side
And speaks in far ancient tongue
A season's wish will come true
All seasons begin with you
One world we all come from
One world we melt into one
Just hold my hand and we're there
Somehow we're going somewhere
Somehow we're going somewhere

You ask me where to begin
Am I so lost in my sin
You ask me where did I fall
I'll say I can't tell you when
But if my spirit is strong
I know it can't be long
No questions I'm not alone
Somehow I'll find my way home

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Loch Lomond

TRADITIONAL SCOTTISH
Released by RUNRIG
In the album THE HIGHLAND CONNECTION (1979)
And as a single (1983/2007)

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By yon bonnie banks and by yon bonnie braes
Where the sun shines on Loch Lomond
Where me and my true love spent many happy days
On the banks of Loch Lomond

Twas there that we parted in yon shady glen
On the steep sides of Ben Lomond
Where in purple hue the Highland hills we view
And the moon glints out in the gloaming

You'll take the high road and I'll take the low road And I'll be in Scotland afore ye
Where me and my true love will never meet again
On the bonnie bonnie banks of Loch Lomond

Where wild flowers spring and the wee birdies sing
On the steep sides of Ben Lomond
But the broken heart it kens nae second spring
Though resigned we may be while we’re greetin

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Galveston

Words and music by JIMMY WEBB

Released by GLEN CAMPBELL
As a single and in the album of the same name (1969).

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Jimmy Webb stated he was thinking of the Spanish-American War when he wrote this song, but Glen Campbell performed the promotional video in battle fatigues, intending it to be about Vietnam, as Galveston was the embarcation point for many soldiers going to that war.

Galveston, oh Galveston, I still hear your sea winds blowin'
I still see her dark eyes glowin'
She was 21 when I left Galveston

Galveston, oh Galveston, I still hear your sea waves crashing
While I watch the cannons flashing
I clean my gun and dream of Galveston

I still see her standing by the water
Standing there lookin' out to sea
And is she waiting there for me?
On the beach where we used to run

Galveston, oh Galveston, I am so afraid of dying
Before I dry the tears she's crying
Before I watch your sea birds flying in the sun
At Galveston, at Galveston

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London Pride

Words and Music by NOËL COWARD
Released as a single in 1941

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Noël Coward wrote this song in 1941, comparing the hardiness to Londoners during the Blitz to that of the plant of the same name.

London Pride has been handed down to us.
London Pride is a flower that's free.
London Pride means our own dear town to us,
And our pride it for ever will be.

Woa, Liza,
See the coster barrows,
Vegetable marrows
And the fruit piled high.
Woa, Liza,
Little London sparrows,
Covent Garden Market where the costers cry.

Cockney feet
Mark the beat of history.
Every street
Pins a memory down.
Nothing ever can quite replace
The grace of London Town.

There's a little city flower every spring unfailing
Growing in the crevices by some London railing,
Though it has a Latin name, in town and country-side
We in England call it London Pride.

London Pride has been handed down to us.
London Pride is a flower that's free.
London Pride means our own dear town to us,
And our pride it for ever will be.

Hey, lady,
When the day is dawning
See the policeman yawning
On his lonely beat.
Gay lady,
Mayfair in the morning,
Hear your footsteps echo in the empty street.

Early rain
And the pavement's glistening.
All Park Lane
In a shimmering gown.
Nothing ever could break or harm
The charm of London Town.

In our city darkened now, street and square and crescent,
We can feel our living past in our shadowed present,
Ghosts beside our starlit Thames
Who lived and loved and died
Keep throughout the ages London Pride.

London Pride has been handed down to us.
London Pride is a flower that's free.
London Pride means our own dear town to us,
And our pride it for ever will be.

Grey city
Stubbornly implanted,
Taken so for granted
For a thousand years.
Stay, city,
Smokily enchanted,
Cradle of our memories and hopes and fears.

Every Blitz
Your resistance
Toughening,
From the Ritz
To the Anchor and Crown,
Nothing ever could override
The pride of London Town.

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The Song of the Clyde

Words and music by
R.Y. BELL and IAN GOURLEY
Sung by KENNETH McKELLAR (1963)

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I sing of a river I'm happy beside.
The song that I sing is a song of the Clyde.
Of all Scottish rivers it's dearest to me.
It flows from Leadhills all the way to the sea.
It borders the orchards of Lanark so fair,
Meanders through meadows with sheep grazing there,
But from Glasgow to Greenock, in towns on each side,
The hammers' "ding-dong" is the song of the Clyde.

CHORUS: Oh the river Clyde, the wonderful Clyde!
The name of it thrills me and fills me with pride,
And I'm satisfied, whate'er may betide,
The sweetest of song is the song of the Clyde.

Imagine we've left Craigendoran behind,
And wind-happy yachts by Kilcreggan we find.
At Kirn and Dunoon and Innellan we stay,
Then Scotland’s Madeira—that's Rothesay, they say—
Or maybe by Fairlie and Largs we will go,
Or over to Millport that thrills people so,
Maybe journey to Arran it can't be denied,
Those scenes all belong to the song of the Clyde. CHORUS

When sun sets on dockland there's beauty to see.
The cry of a sea bird is music to me.
The blast of a horn loudly echoes, and then
A stillness descends on the water again.
'Tis here that the sea-going liners are born:
But, unlike the salmon, they seldom return.
Can you wonder the Scots, o'er the ocean so wide,
Should constantly long for the song of the Clyde? CHORUS

4. There's Paw an' Maw at Glasgow Broomielaw.
They're goin' "doon the water" for "The Fair."
There's Bob an' Mary, on the Govan Ferry,
Wishin' jet propulsion could be there.
There's steamers cruisin', and there's "buddies" snoozin',
And there's laddies fishin' frae the pier;
An' Paw's perspirin', very near expirin',
As he rows a boat frae there to here.

5. With eyes a-flashin', it is voted "smashin",
To be walkin' daily on the prom:
And May and Evelyn are in seventh heaven
As thy stroll along with Dick and Tom;
And Dumbarton Rock to ev'ry Jean and Jock,
Extends a welcome that is high and wide:
Seems to know that they are on their homeward way
To hear the song of the Clyde. CHORUS

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Mull of Kintyre

Words and Music by PAUL McCARTNEY
Releaased as a single by WINGS (1977)

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Mull of kintyre
Oh mist rolling in from the sea,
My desire is always to be here
Oh mull of kintyre

Far have I traveled and much have I seen
Dark distant mountains with valleys of green.
Past painted deserts the sunsets on fire
As he carries me home to the mull of kintyre.

Mull of kintyre
Oh mist rolling in from the sea,
My desire is always to be here
Oh mull of kintyre

Sweep through the heather like deer in the glen
Carry me back to the days I knew then.
Nights when we sang like a heavenly choir
Of the life and the time of the mull of kintyre.

Mull of kintyre
Oh mist rolling in from the sea,
My desire is always to be here
Oh mull of kintyre

Smiles in the sunshine
And tears in the rain
Still take me back to where my memories remain
Flickering embers growing higher and higher
As they carry me back to the mull of kintyre

Mull of kintyre
Oh mist rolling in from the sea,
My desire is always to be here
Oh mull of kintyre

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Remember the Alamo

Words and music by JANE BOWERS
Recorded and sang by
the KINGSTON TRIO, JOHNNY CASH, DONOVAN and others

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A hundred and eighty were challenged by Travis to die
By the line that he drew with his sword when the battle was nigh.
Any man that would fight to the death cross over,
But him that would live better fly
And over the line went a hundred and seventy nine

Hey Santa Anna we're killing your soldiers below,
That men where ever they go, will remember the Alamo

Jim Bowie lay dyin', but his powder was ready and dry
Flat on his back Bowie killed him a few in reply
And young David Crockett was singin' and laughin',
With gallantry fierce in his eyes
For God and for freedom, a man's more than willin' to die

Hey Santa Anna we're killing your soldiers below,
that men where ever they go, will remember the Alamo

And then they sent a young scout from the battlements bloody and loud,
With the words of farewell from a garrison valiant and proud
"Grieve not little darlin' my dyin', if Texas is sovereign and free,
We'll never surrender and ever with liberty be"

Hey Santa Anna we're killing your soldiers below,
that men where ever they go, will remember the Alamo!

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Né en 17 à Leidenstadt

Words and music by JEAN-JACQUES GOLDMAN
From the 1990 album FREDERICKS GOLDMAN JONES
Released as a single in 1991

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This song was a big hit when I was living and working in France, and I fell in love with the words and the arrangement. The lyrics show the moral and intellectual courage of Jean-Jacques Goldman, who has Polish Jewish forebears, as he reflects on how he would have felt had he been one of the Germans in their humiliating WWI defeat in the town of the title. He also wonders how he would have felt in the tribalised atmosphere of industrial Belfast, and the late Carole Fredericks, from Springfield, sings the verse wondering how she would have acted had she been born white and rich in Johannesburg. The last two lines speak of a hope of peace springing from stepping back from war until we are somewhat more enlightened than at present, and the sampled bagpipes in the chorus, which is sung only once, are the icing on the cake. My English translation is below the French words.

Si j’étais né en 17 à Leidenstadt
Sur les ruines d’un chams de bataille
Aurias-je été meilleur ou pire que ces gens
Si j’avais été allemand?

Bercé d’humiliation, de haine et d’ignorance
Nourri de rêves de revanche
Aurais-je été de ces probables consciences
Larmes au milieu d’un torrent

Si j’avais grandi dans les docklands de Belfast
Soldat d’une fois, d’une caste
Aurais-je la force envers et contre les miens
De trahir: tender un main

Si j’étais née blanche et riche à Johannesburg
Entre la pouvoir et la peur
Aurai-je entendu ce cris porté par le vent
Rien ne sera comme avant

On saura jamais c’qu’on a vraiment dans nos ventres
Caché derrière nos apparences
L’âme d’un brave ou d’n complice ou d’un bourreau?
Ou le pire ou plus beau?
Serions-nous de ceau qui résistant ou biens les moutons d’un troupeau
S’il fallait plus que ces mots?

Si j’étais né en 17 à Leidenstadt
Sur les ruines d’un chams de bataille
Aurias-je été meilleur ou pire que ces gens
Si j’avais été allemand?

Et qu’on nous épargne à toi et moi si possibles très longtemps
D’avoir à choisir un camp.

Translation

If I was born in 1917 in Leidenstadt,
On the ruins of a battlefield
Would I have been better or worse than its people
If I’d been German?

Brought up with humiliation, hatred and ignorance
Cutting my teeth on dreams of revenge
Would I have been improbably conscientious,
Tears in the midst of a flood?

If I’d grown up in the docklands of Belfast,
Soldier of one faith, one tribe,
Would I have had the strength to go around and against my own people,
To betray – reach out a hand?

If I’d been born white and rich in Johannesburg,
Living between power and fear,
Would I have heard the voices on the wind
Saying things would never be the same again?

We never know what’s in each other’s mind,
Hidden behind our appearances.
The soul of a brave, or a collaborator, or an executioner?
Or something better, or worse?
Would we be among those who resist, or else with the sheep in the flock
If more than words were needed?

If I was born in 1917 in Leidenstadt,
On the ruins of a battlefield
Would I have been better or worse than its people
If I’d been German?

And if you and I spare each other long enough,
We might not have to choose a side.

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