Sunday 26 November 2006

ROSA'S LOVELY DAUGHTERS

Who’s that walking miles for water?
Who’s that sweatshopping all the day long
In the hot south, in the cold north,
Who are these so proud and strong?
From the workbench in the backroom
To the cradle at the side of the bed
From mad mothers to peace campers
Who are these seeing red?

We are Rosa’s lovely daughters
We are no man’s blushing bride
We are Rosa’s lovely daughters
And we will not be denied

Well our fathers handshake their bargains
While their good wives stand around and they weep
But our hearts sing while we’re dancing
We are no man’s to give or to keep


We are Rosa’s lovely daughters
We are no man’s blushing bride
We are Rosa’s lovely daughters
And we will not be denied

Wearing white scarves in the Plaza
Burning passbooks in the centre of town:
We are wildfire in the backyard,
And that big white house is a-burning down

We are Rosa’s lovely daughters
We are no man’s blushing bride
We are Rosa’s lovely daughters
And we will not be denied

Robb Johnstone