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Released 12 October 2014
Guitar and vocal: Renny Jackson
Mandolin: Ian Scionti
Double-bass: Rafa Torres
Percussion: Jesus Campos
Free Western Sahara
On a distant dusty road
There was a distant dusty stone
Kicked by a soldier on his tea break
The stone rumbled forward
As he stepped back and he thought
‘Why can I not be more like that stone?’
In a distant deep blue sea
There was a distant shoal of fish
Who muttered as they rocked upon the tide
‘Why is it that these ships
Keep on cutting up our necks?’
Thinking back to 1975
On a silver mound of sand
Stood a sullen silver moon
Who watched with a scythe in her hand
She said, ‘I’ve to come to reap the harvest
But the furthest I could get
Was to dig out hidden landmines underground’
And she said ‘Free Western Sahara!'
In a rotten pile of tin
Baked rusty by the sun
A conversation could be heard amongst the waste
‘Hey you, you can of tuna? What’s the deal with us all bein’ here?’
‘I’ve no idea,’ replied the other tin in haste.
And underneath the tin
Were some rocks and veins of gas
Minerals that glimmered unabashed
Said the phosphate to the propane
‘It’s insane all this profit!’
‘Shut it, you’re got ideas above your shaft.’
And sure enough the sun came down to torch their necks
Blistered almost to a cinder
But the elders cried as they clenched their eyes
‘’Our revenge will be the laughter of our children!"
And they said ‘Free Western Sahara!'
Guitar and vocal: Renny Jackson
Mandolin: Ian Scionti
Double-bass: Rafa Torres
Percussion: Jesus Campos
Free Western Sahara
On a distant dusty road
There was a distant dusty stone
Kicked by a soldier on his tea break
The stone rumbled forward
As he stepped back and he thought
‘Why can I not be more like that stone?’
In a distant deep blue sea
There was a distant shoal of fish
Who muttered as they rocked upon the tide
‘Why is it that these ships
Keep on cutting up our necks?’
Thinking back to 1975
On a silver mound of sand
Stood a sullen silver moon
Who watched with a scythe in her hand
She said, ‘I’ve to come to reap the harvest
But the furthest I could get
Was to dig out hidden landmines underground’
And she said ‘Free Western Sahara!'
In a rotten pile of tin
Baked rusty by the sun
A conversation could be heard amongst the waste
‘Hey you, you can of tuna? What’s the deal with us all bein’ here?’
‘I’ve no idea,’ replied the other tin in haste.
And underneath the tin
Were some rocks and veins of gas
Minerals that glimmered unabashed
Said the phosphate to the propane
‘It’s insane all this profit!’
‘Shut it, you’re got ideas above your shaft.’
And sure enough the sun came down to torch their necks
Blistered almost to a cinder
But the elders cried as they clenched their eyes
‘’Our revenge will be the laughter of our children!"
And they said ‘Free Western Sahara!'