Anti-Carol (John Pole) It weren't no picnic It weren't no picture post card It was cold as 'taters in the mould When the couple come lookin' for a room Cold shouldered they were when the landlords looked at her And saw the baby in her womb Cold comfort they got Was there a room? There was not The town was crowded for a start And it was cold, cold. cold, cold Cold as a beggar boy's heart It could have been in Jo'burg, Detroit. Chittagong, Calcutta So long since it happened I'm wrong! It happened yesterday It happens now more and more... Then somebody said he could lend them a shed Crashing down on the floor Just concrete and iron and a blanket to lie on They'd been walkin' all day And their home was such a long, long, long. long Long way away They never heard no angels Just the big police siren When the light come fumblin' through the night Her waters broke. the kid begun to come "Is there a doctor?" "No fear, Only poor people here What would you pay him with,. chum?" There war ice on the door. she sweated, he swore He saw the head of his child And then together him and her Helped it into the world There weren't no cattle watching Just a rat and twenty cockroach The kid cried. his dad soon had him washed and dried When his mother woke she give him breast He shared his parents' love And he was heir to their poverty It war all they possessed And then the rumors got 'round There were soldiers in town With orders "Search and Destroy" They didn't want to get wasted They left town a bit hasty The man, his wife and their boy. boy, boy, boy Young wife and new baby boy He was theirs they made him Out of love. hope. and suff'ring God's son? Or just another one! More like millions born to slave. starve. and die Oh p'raps when he grows and sees how the world goes He'll help to change it by and by Let's hope the soldiers don't hang this new son of man Like they done one before ... Will he bring peace or a gun? When his kingdom does come It'll belong to the poor. poor, poor, poor. The homeless and poor copyright John Pole 1972 recorded by Frankie Armstrong on Out of Love, Hope and Suffering SOF OCT98
Thanks to Mudcat for the Digital Tradition!