Never,no more

They think that they own us


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I’ve sung my wild singing in time gone before
But I don’t want to sing now
Oh,never no more.
And it’s no nay ,never
No,nay,never no more
Shall I use my voice here…
Nor out will it pour.

My name is Allanah,or Eileen. perhaps
And I came here from Ireland
with outdated maps
And it’s,Why,why ever,
Why ever and more
Did the Brits give no votes to
The poor Catholics?

My sister and brothers
All died from T.B.
And an early dark grave
is here waiting for me.
But I bore six children
And I cared for my man
As he came home so filthy
From the auld coal diggin’

We had no free doctor
And no kind midwife.
So though my son’s born,
Strain is takin’ my life.

Always and ever
The rich will maintain
That without them this country
Will go down the drain.

But why don’t you try it
As a memorial to me.
Let the rats all depart
And what shall we see?

No,nay,never,nay never no more
Shall I bear my man children
No nay never
Not ever again.

I looked down from heaven
Where God has put me
What did I find
When out did I see?

I saw that the world
Turns round once every day
The beggars and homeless
Kneel down and they pray

Oh,no no never,
dear God help the rich.
Your son tried to l’arn them
But they weren’t bewitched.
They have their accountants
And they have all their laws
They find their amusement
In troubles and wars.
They think that they own you
But,dear God,you’re not theirs
We saw your son Jesus
And he said you are ours

So when will you come down
To make that judgment?
My pen it has broken
My life force is spent.

So it’s no,nay never
Not ever again
Will I sing my old songs
Nor  shall  I love my own man

Wittgenstein and my ladder

Oh,Wittgenstein ‘s writing is divine.
I wish his sentences were mine.
I can only understand a few.
But they all make me  see anew.
I wish my own work was so fine

Wittgenstein is  a  great artist true.
He created  his meanings for you.
Language  was his perception.
Or should that say  conception?

I’ll leave that decision  for review!

He appeals to more artistic minds.
In his work some great hints unwind.
I climbed the ladder up the fence.
What a strange happenstance.
I always knew blackbirds were kind

Now the ladder has gone, disappeared.
But noone’s up here,how weird”
So from the fence to the roof.
I discovered a new sort of truth.
Climbing is not something to be feared.

If you alter the place where you  stand,
You get an alternative  view of  your land.
New perspectives give us pause.
Don’t be hasty with laws,
Reality will surely make demands.