A powerful folk song by Eric Bogle

Recorded April 10, 2014

 Martin, don't go out tonight.

Martin, stay at home.
You know I die a thousand times
every hour you're gone.
One more night of waiting
for the knocking at the door
that will make another widow.
Curse this endless bloody war.

And for all your talk of freedom,
we're all prisoners of a cause
that's stolen pity from the heart,
crushed reason in its jaws.
It's put the nightmare in your eyes
and the blood upon your hands,
and made a senseless graveyard
of our green beloved land.

Sing of martyrs, sing of heroes,
make your song sounds like a prayer.
But who pays the price?
Who must sacrifice,
the children that we bear.
Do you wonder, we despair.

Martin, when I look at you,
shall I tell you what I see?
And endless, timeless, silent line
of women just like me
through the anguished ages
waiting for the knocking at the door.
Well, we won't wait any longer
and we won't be silent anymore.

And you sing your song of liberty
as if I can't understand.
Does the wild, free spark
in a woman's heart
burn less than in a man's?
Do you think I don't love this land?