Song picture
Woman of Sumpul River
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acoustic folk social commentary political satire western massachusetts oil coal climate change fracking incineration music for social change nuclear energy
Folk singer, social commentary, satire, people's stories, children's music
Hi Folks, The Bard Insurgent here. My comrade D.O. (the Poet Roofer) and I got that handle (The Bard Insurgents) from traveling town to town performing songs and poetry about people's lives. I've been performing since I was 3 years old, cutting my vocal chords on liturgical and classical music. I was a concert soloist as a child, when I wasn't herding cows, throwing hay and shoveling manure. During the Civil Rights movement and the Vietnam war, I began writing songs about social change. I left the country in 1970 and my dozen years in other countries, mostly in Africa & South America, have provided a global perspective to my music. My travels helped me realize that people all around the world are essentially the same in their basic life needs and their desires to live peacefully in their communities. These experiences have informed my commitment to working for international understanding as I organize at home. A powerful way to educate and inspire is with music. I tell people's stories, do social commentary with a touch of satire that I hope you enjoy and share with your friends, as well as sing together in the streets and in your living rooms. I also have children's music written for the children in my life with Jacob and Kayla as primary muses. Looking forward to seeing you on the road, Tom
Song Info
Charts
Peak #83
Peak in subgenre #13
Author
Claribel Alegria/Tom Neilson
Rights
Tom Neilson
Uploaded
December 21, 2012
Track Files
MP3
MP3 2.3 MB 128 kbps 2:33
Lyrics
Come with me. Let us climb the volcano. Break through the fog, history is bubbling there. Morazon y Marti and all you brave people Gambling with death for our freedom We tried to get away. It was the 14th of May, My man taken away with his thumbs tied. I wept for him in my silence, My youngest son in my arms. When the soldiers came, I played dead, Afraid my baby would cry. I was hiding in the river for a long time. My wet body is the earth, Wounded mother earth, Oozing tenderness from a gaping wound. The soldiers do not see me Nor the gringo who counts the dead, Nor the yankee pilot in his gunship overhead. They cannot see the guerilleros Disguised as ancient sentinels. With the woman of Sumpul let us climb the volcano. Break through the fog, history is bubbling there. Morazon y Marti and all you brave people Gambling with death for our freedom
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