One morning in Bolivia
|
The leader of the partisans and two of his companions
|
Were forced to flee the mountains for their lives
|
Through green and dusty villages they sped along the little roads
|
The peasants smiled and shouted as they hurried by
|
Jesus called out to every one "Don't think that we are leaving,
|
They only tried to frighten us with guns, we shall return,"
|
Continue with your work, continue with your talk
|
You have it in your hand to own your life to own your land
|
The people smiled and shouted and they ran along a little while
|
The stood and watched, their hands were restless and empty
|
The body of Jesus was in the jeep that they blew up
|
Before it reach the plane
|
|
The priest was proud to bless him for what there was
|
of him remaining in the afternoon.
|
|
Continue with your work, continue with your talk
|
You have it in your hands to own your life to own your land
|
There is no one who can show you the road you should be on
|
They only tell you they can show you and then tomorrow they are gone
|
|
The smell of oil and incense fill the room in this adobe hut
|
Where on the table lies the body of a man
|
His face is pale and young, his beard is dark and curled
|
Pennies hold his eyelids from the evening light
|
People from the village those who knew him, those who killed him
|
Stand inside the door, their hands are restless and empty
|
They watch the priest make silent crosses in the air
|
And pray to God inside their hearts for their own souls
|
|
Continue with your work, continue with your talk
|
You have it in your hands to own your life to own your land
|
There is no one who can show you the road you should be on
|
They only tell you they can show you and then tomorrow they are gone
|
|
-----------------
|
Che
|
Judy Collins |