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Based on a story I read in the Palestine Monitor about a Palestinian refugee from the city of Haifa who went to visit the home of his birth and met the Jewish refugees from Iraq who were living there.
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Genre:
Acoustic - Folk
Songs by artist:
264 songs
Upload date
May 27, 2005
Meta data
MP3 10.0 MB
128 kbps bitrate
0:00 minutes
Words/music
David Rovics © David Rovics 2002 All Rights Reserved
Story behind the song
Based on a story I read in the Palestine Monitor about a Palestinian refugee from the city of Haifa who went to visit the home of his birth and met the Jewish refugees from Iraq who were living there.
Lyrics
In 1948 I fled my village The Stern Gang drove my family from the lands We ran into the desert Where I've spent these decades living by my hands Life in Haifa wasn't easy But so much better than this hellhole with the soldiers and barbed wire And the closures, and the hunger The humiliation and the checkpoints, the machine gun fire And each day I wonder after Haifa The home that we abandoned when the Zionists had won Is there a family with a child Does it's father love it as I loved my only son Before the soldiers shot him down Riddled him with bullets in his back and in his head Home in Haifa, in my house Does someone's father know the pain there is in an empty bed In 1960 I fled my country Left the Tigris River for this foreign place I had to leave home, I didn't want to But they were rounding up the leftists and the papers had my face And my son, a student leader On the streets of Baghdad was nowhere to be found So I walked through the mountains Just the shirt upon my back, knowing not where I was bound Now here I am, this town of Haifa In this little house, but at least I'm still alive And each night I wonder how is Baghdad Would I recognize my friends if any did indeed survive It took a long time, but I made a home here And I wished my son could be here in this town upon the shore I was with my wife, it was the Sabbath When an old Arab couple knocked upon our door We asked them in, gave them tea For that's what you do with strangers, and we could see they meant no harm They told their story, we told ours Us of our life in Baghdad, them of their family farm And of this house, which they once lived in Where once they raised a family, long before their hair turned grey Of their son, and the troopers And of ours, who we cry for every day So much in common, so much gone bad So much running, and never coming home You can hear the cards falling down See the faces of the children, forever forced to roam And here we were, in this house Fearing that tomorrow would be just like yesterday So much resentment, so much at stake And I really don't remember who was the first to say In one world In one village In one home Let us live together ---- Created March, 2002 Copyright David Rovics 2002, all rights reserved