Ophelia - Spanish Civil War

Tony Randall (http://www.ajayr.org/AJAYR/Music.html)

The Spanish day is over and the evening settles round us
And somewhere in the distance I can hear a cricket's song
Ophelia, she is sleeping on a bed of meadow grasses
And tonight she will be mine, then I'll be gone

Speak to me Ophelia, can you see the camp fires burning
On the hills above Valencia, a dozen miles away
And the flowers on the hillside turn their tear filled heads away
From the killing that is coming with the dawn

The night grows cold and silent on the hills above Valencia
But Ophelia's voice still warms me as it did when we were young
I'm alone, though she is with me, in the solitude of memory
As the eastern sky reveals the rising sun

The softness of her body, taken from me on that morning
She is standing there before me, a partisan of Spain
She plucks, for me, a flower, from our bed of meadow grasses
Anoints it with her lips then turns away

Her body now lies silent 'neath our bed of meadow grasses
Her hopes and expectations extinguished as a light
No more to march together in the fight to earn her freedom
No more to lie together in the night

I leave her now for ever to her silent contemplation
The last time I shall journey on that pilgrimage to Spain
The ghosts of Barcelona and of Guernica and Teruel
Fly with me, yet their bodies must remain

We'll keep the red flag flying there

Category:

Music

Tags:

• Red
• Oktober
• Sheringham
• Norfolk