Afghanicide: A poem
(To the tune of 'Deportee (Plane Wreck at Los Gatos)' a 1948 poem by Woody Guthrie, later set to music, and popularized by Pete Seeger.)
Since many a month we’ve heard not of uncle
and cousin who walked to the Pakistan side.
They said they would get on a boat for Australia
where people are good and will listen their cry.
Our cousin and uncle left home in the summer
when the last pound of rice was our food for three week,
before we ate bark and before we ate grasses,
they went to Australia to be refugee.
Our cousin and uncle were gone when the big planes
scared us away from our village so cursed.
Oh can it be that our uncle to calm us
promised that life could not get any worse?
Goodbye Homayoon, take care of Aziza,
protect my small daughters, Miriam and Farida.
I will send you ten dollar for food for the winter
when I get to Australia and be refugee.
But some say the boats cannot make for the sailing,
and some say Australia will push them to sea.
And some say that uncle and cousin be drownded.
And some say you never hear from refugee.
Let go of my shirt, do not cry my Farida,
I will walk only night through the mountain and snow,
So, insh’allah, Taliban will not catch me,
and, insh’allah, God will care me as I go.
We beat Alexander, we defeated the Buddhist,
We defeated all armies, we beat Genghis Khan,
Three times did the British run away from our courage,
The Russians did run; so will Uncle Sam.
We should happy the river three years without water,
the bridge the big planes will never be bomb.
Eight days I will get to Peshawar, my brother.
I will rich in Australia and send money home.
Goodbye Homayoon, take care of Aziza,
protect my small daughters, Miriam and Farida.
I will send you ten dollar for food for the winter
when I get to Australia and be refugee.
And rice will be yours for to eat when I get home
with one hundred dollar and Aziza will cook boulani.
And one day America will catch that bad Arab
who bombed California, and we will be free.
Goodbye Homayoon, take care of Aziza,
protect my small daughters, Miriam and Farida.
I will send you ten dollar for food for the winter
when I get to Australia and be refugee.
© Copyright Pip Wilson, 2001- this day.
I've done some work lately on this poem and hope I have improved it a bit.
Categories: afghanistan, poetry
Since many a month we’ve heard not of uncle
and cousin who walked to the Pakistan side.
They said they would get on a boat for Australia
where people are good and will listen their cry.
Our cousin and uncle left home in the summer
when the last pound of rice was our food for three week,
before we ate bark and before we ate grasses,
they went to Australia to be refugee.
Our cousin and uncle were gone when the big planes
scared us away from our village so cursed.
Oh can it be that our uncle to calm us
promised that life could not get any worse?
Goodbye Homayoon, take care of Aziza,
protect my small daughters, Miriam and Farida.
I will send you ten dollar for food for the winter
when I get to Australia and be refugee.
But some say the boats cannot make for the sailing,
and some say Australia will push them to sea.
And some say that uncle and cousin be drownded.
And some say you never hear from refugee.
Let go of my shirt, do not cry my Farida,
I will walk only night through the mountain and snow,
So, insh’allah, Taliban will not catch me,
and, insh’allah, God will care me as I go.
We beat Alexander, we defeated the Buddhist,
We defeated all armies, we beat Genghis Khan,
Three times did the British run away from our courage,
The Russians did run; so will Uncle Sam.
We should happy the river three years without water,
the bridge the big planes will never be bomb.
Eight days I will get to Peshawar, my brother.
I will rich in Australia and send money home.
Goodbye Homayoon, take care of Aziza,
protect my small daughters, Miriam and Farida.
I will send you ten dollar for food for the winter
when I get to Australia and be refugee.
And rice will be yours for to eat when I get home
with one hundred dollar and Aziza will cook boulani.
And one day America will catch that bad Arab
who bombed California, and we will be free.
Goodbye Homayoon, take care of Aziza,
protect my small daughters, Miriam and Farida.
I will send you ten dollar for food for the winter
when I get to Australia and be refugee.
© Copyright Pip Wilson, 2001- this day.
I've done some work lately on this poem and hope I have improved it a bit.
Categories: afghanistan, poetry
Pip Wilson posted item above at 8:37 PM | Permalink
2 Comments:
I'm not sure the original needed improvement. Woody Guthrie said it fine.
Dear Deportee,
I would certainly not try to improve upon Woody Guthrie's excellent poem. This was homage, not one-upmanship. - Pip
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