Frank Edwards

The limestone castles are so pretty,

The olives taste like salty wine,

The sun is dry in the holy city,

So far removed from this home of mine

I left Barrack St. before Christmas,

I exiled after my mother died,

And I beg her for forgiveness

For killing someone else’s child

Through the graves the wind blows,

The olives blood is shallow,

Frank Edwards is my name,

And I went to fight in Spain

Back home I had grown into a man,

The Church said no and I said ‘¡no pasarán!’

The young lads made placards and took a stand,

And I said no man could price me from my land

Over a million corpses,

Franco rose to power,

Into the arms of those I love

Oh I wish I could surrender

And by the banks of the Jarama River,

I stared death in the eyes,

My comrades had fallen,

WIld geese fly from the riverside,

Even the olives are bleeding,

There’s no point crying over spilled win,

Until Mossy Quinlan lay fallen,

History is vulnerable tonight

Through the graves the wind blows,

The olives blood is shallow,

Frank Edwards is my name,

And I went to fight in Spain