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Oblivious

by Mick Blake

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1.
Oblivious What does it take to make you angry? Where is the line that can't be crossed? Sold out, taken in, yet blindly You do it all again Fuel that gravy train Oblivious, oblivious You stay in your tribe and you stand by your man Then he's whipped into line for some great masterplan Stuck in a spiral, still fighting an old civil war The men and the women of 1916 Risked their lives for a national dream A century later what was it all for? Hear their voices down the decades calling out to you "All that we dreamed of and died for Squandered by scoundrels and fools" And this is the best we can? What does it take to make you angry? Where is the spark that lights your flame? Sold out, taken in, yet blindly You do it all again Fuel that gravy train Oblivious, oblivious And when they give all that you treasure away for a pittance And banish your children to toil on a rich foreign shore When they prey on the weak, bow to the ones who have plenty They know that you'll follow as blindly as you did before Imagine a nation where people are free Not slaves to some gombeen man economy Sold into bondage one ill-fated September night, Where smooth talking sleeveens don't spin and pretend Their promises not just a means to an end And justice just isn't what's legal, it's also what's right But the King of Islandeady echoes the cries of the clown Heaps pain on the sick and the needy To soften the Ice-maiden's frown And we take it all lying down What does it take to make you angry? Where is the call that wakes you up? Sold out, taken in, yet blindly You do it all again Fuel that gravy train Oblivious, oblivious Oblivious, oblivious
2.
Catch Cries One hundred years have been and gone Since you penned your protest song And once again, it's all gone wrong Nothings really changed We still send up those shivering prayers In the hope that someone cares The greasy tills have been stripped bare And no-one is to blame The fisherman is silenced, his widom worn down And we are still won over by the catch cries of the clown Paying debts that we don't owe Others reap where once we sowed Helpless as our children go Compassion dead and gone What need you being come to sense But fumble in a greasy till And add the ha'pence to the pence And prayer to shivering prayer Until you've dried the marrow to the bone? In a hundred years or so When we've paid back what they owe Maybe then, we'll learn to know The catch cries of the clown The catch cries of the clown
3.
The Rich Man's Feast It's said that Queen Victoria was as round as she was tall And when it came to banqueting, she could outeat them all She'd trawl through seven courses in thirty minutes straight And ask about the Irish once she'd licked the seventh plate She told the royal treasury to send two thousand pounds To show her starving subjects that their Queen's love knew no bounds A few crumbs from her table, and her conscience was appeased When the poor man's famine was the rich man's feast A Sultan Lord of Turkey, he heard of Ireland's plight Took pity on the Irish, and to the Queen did write "Your Majesty I'd like to send ten thousand pounds to feed your subjects in Hibernia in their time of need" But the Christian Queen could not be bettered by a Muslim Moor So she told him that he could not send a greater sum than her To save the royal blushes, his charity decreased When the poor man's famine was the rich man's feast Across the wild Atlantic, a noble people dwell, And in the name of "progress" suffered their own hell Driven from their homeland by ruthless profiteers The Chocktaw died in thousands all along the trail of tears On hearing of the starving isle across the ocean wide They gathered every cent they had and sent it on the tide For they had known a hunger like their brothers to the East When the poor man's famine was the rich man's feast Now blight is often quoted as the root of Ireland's woes But enough to feed this country two times over left these shores The army guarded ports from Donegal to Bantry Bay So British ships could safely carry Irish food away The good Queen's chief economist, Lord Nassau, couldn't hide His bitter disappointment when just one million died The blood of the Irish kept the wheels of commerce greased When the poor man's famine was the rich man's feast A century has come and gone, still we never learn That decency is cast aside where profits are concerned Its not with food but water that they try to beat us down, Gone is Queen Victoria, King Denis wears the crown And under some delusion that the markets just might care Our government play middle men to gambling billionaires While the rich avoid their taxes and the working man is fleeced Then the poor man's famine's still the rich man's feast And what we allow continues, as history repeats And the poor man's famine's still the rich man's feast....
4.
Heaven 05:44 video
Heaven And when I get to Heaven, I'll dance amongst the stars And dust from magic moonbeams will cover up my scars And when I get to heaven, I'll see who really cares I'll log on Jesus' facebook and count the likes and shares I'll look down on my service, and watch the teardrops fall And listen as the preacher says, there was no need to this at all And then my guardian angel will soothe and comfort me When I get to heaven, that's how it's gonna be But if you're looking for a sign, maybe this is it If you're looking for a sign, maybe this is it This is it, this is it.... But what is there's no heaven, and everything is black And even if I wanted to, well there's just no going back And what if there's no heaven, and living is the key And all these tribulations are sent to strengthen me And those who persecute me, a week or two from now Will whisper of that poor strange kid Who would have done it anyhow And there's no gaurdian angel to meet me at the gate Well if there is a heaven maybe heaven can wait But if you're looking for a sign, maybe this is it If you're looking for a sign, maybe this is it This is it, this is it, this is it......
5.
The Giveaway We'd like to apologise from this land green and fair For bringing on this worldwide recession It wasn't our intention, we just partied on And now we've gone and made a bad impression So to governments and corporations, we'd like to make small donation Just to heal this economic rift And so that we might amends, and please our European friends We'll give you our whole nation as a gift.... Would you like a piece of our country to do with as you please? Pillage it and plunder it, Shatter all that's under it Shake up some benzyne Well some people say we oughta stop you poisoning the water But those people don't have a say So if you'd like a piece of our country, we're just givin' it away Would you like a stretch of our ocean - you got nothin' to lose Forget about those hippy types, Just bury those high pressure pipes Anywhere you choose Don't worry if the locals get a little vocal, we'll send in the boys in blue So if you'd like a stretch of our ocean, just take it, it's there for you How about a few of our children? We can't afford to feed them no more We'll educate them and flouridate them and send them to your shore Well you might think the nation would protest this deportation But there's nothing they can do So if you'd like a few of our children, just take them, they're all for you Would you like a slice of our heaven? You could fly your warplanes there Drop in for a snack on your way to Iraq To get around neutrality, we'll call it hospitality We don't really want to know what's happened in Guantanemo That's none of our affair So if you'd like a slice of our heaven, you can fly your war planes there How about a little "investment"? Come on and take a punt or two. Even if you lose, we'll tax the fools, and pay it all back to you Well you might think the nation would reject this subjugation But there's nothing they can do. So if you'd like a piece of our country If you want a stretch of our ocean A few of our children A slice of our heaven Our whole damn nation? Just take it – we'll give it away to you......
6.
Purple Ribbons Purple ribbons, six years old Lilac jumper for the cold, Full of love and life that bright March day Dry stone wall on wet soft land Taytos clutched in tiny hand Follows as her uncle leads the way Boots too big to keep the pace She turns to travel back And disappears without a trace along that mountain track Now hundreds searched and thousands prayed But soon all hope began to fade And questions lie unanswered to this day It's forty years since Mary went away Now some say in Saint Mary's Church A broken man does kneel to pray But still his troubled mind can find no rest He mumbles a confiteor, and something inside starts to stir The guilt becomes much harder to suppress Maybe it's a memory of that March afternoon A vision of a little girl who left this world too soon Now in the twilight of his years Perhaps it's God, not man, he fears It's too late to repent come judgement day If no-one knows why Mary went away Now on that hill in Cashelard A cottage crumbles in the yard A victim of neglect just like the truth the bitter winds of Donegal whistle 'round those gable walls A soft lament for Mary's stolen youth And those of you who dare not spake of what befell that child How can you in truth forsake that infant meek and mild For lips were sealed and blind eyes turned And any hope of justice spurned To shield the one who stilled her childish play For someone knows why Mary went away
7.
Sean MacDiarmada (The Pride of Corranmore) In the town of Kiltyclogher a monument does stand To a proud and noble Leitrim man who lived and died for Ireland He organised an army and he rose against the crown So Irish men and women would no more be beaten down And driven by desire to rekindle freedom's flame, He signed a proclamation that rejected England's claim To Ireland and her people, her destiny restored The man was Sean MacDiarmada, the pride of Corranmore Now on the shores of Lough McNean, there stood a mansion grand And the landlords that did dwell there were amongst the cruelest in the land Nine and thirty families Lord Tottenham did rout Then later Colonel Adamson 100 more cast out The pain of those evictions young McDermott saw at first hand And there and then the rebel vowed to one day make a stand "I'll rid the Irish nation of their likes for evermore" The pledge of Sean MacDiarmada, the pride of Corranmore So he planned a Revolution Preached the fiery gospel of the free Promised an end to persecution Til the time was right to strike for liberty Then one Easter Monday morning, he realised his plan When poets stood with playwrights, and rose up with the working man To fight the forces of King George, to set the nation free Though he knew deep in his heart it could not end in victory But through the glorious madness of a rising doomed to fail He hoped his deeds would resurrect the Spirit of the Gael For six long days they battled til they could take no more "Enough" said Sean McDiarmada, the pride of Corranmore On General Maxwell's orders, they took him from his cell And he hobbled to the prison yard where thirteen of his comrades fell Then they placed the blindfold on those eyes of cobalt blue He stood there to attention for his dream would now come true And when those Sherwood Foresters took aim on that grey dawn Their bullets would ensure the rebels' legacy lived on His thoughts returned to Leitrim and McNean's lonely shore Then they martyred Sean MacDiarmada, the pride of Corranmore And just as he had intended His death brought life to the cause Soon years of tyranny ended New Irish ways and Irish laws In the town of Kiltyclogher a monument still stands To honour you, Mac Diarmada, who lived and died for Ireland But has your selfless sacrifice turned out to be in vain For the Ireland that you died for is in bondage once again And those who climb on stages to commend your noble deeds Have crucified your people through austerity and greed The Bailiffs have returned again, evictions by the score, Where are you, Sean MacDiarmada, the pride of Corranmore And will your likes be seen again on McNean's plundered shore? We need you, Sean McDiarmada, the pride of Corranmore
8.
Another Child Another War In Amsterdam in 44, behind a secret attic door, She takes the diary from the drawer to mark another day For two years now, as darkness falls, safe within these attic walls She finds it harder to recall when life was not this way She scribbles down her hopes and dreams, all that she will be, When the war is over and her family is free But then one sunny August day, they came to steal her life away in Amsterdam, in 44, another child another war A different time, a different land, she clings on to her mother's hand, And rushes to find refuge through the turmoil and the tears For two weeks now, as rockets fly, no Iron Dome to guard her sky She looks on as her little world slowly disappears And in a place of learning she seeks solace for a while Her brother hums a lullaby, her sobs break into smiles But sometime in the dead of night, they took her in a blaze of light In Palestine just like before, another child another war Now in some corner of the sky, perhaps those girls sit side by side And look down on the mayhem, wondering will they ever learn For when an infant's life is lost, in siege or war or holocaust The Rubicon has just been crossed, the bridge has just been burned And those who try to justify will tell us it makes sense How dropping bombs on children is an act of self defence For Fatherland or Promised land, on orders on those in command Who tell us we don't understand, another child another war
9.
Mr Tepper 05:54
Mr Tepper A weekend retreat in the Hamptons. Long Island, is every young stockbrokers dream They buy and they sell and they yell til they get what they want So when Mr Tepper was browsing some brochures He chanced on a mansion supreme At 44 million, it was really a steal But when Mr Tepper looked out at the sea a sand dune obstructed his view, So he tore down the mansion, built one twice as big All paid for by me and by you The view from my mansion, it's not so appealing Some skeleton houses, a washed away road But the government says Mr Tepper must get what he's owed They closed down the school in the next village over To pay Mr Tepper his dues The government said it wouldn't be nice to refuse And with all that money, the great Mr Tepper He built a fine school of his own Where young people go in the hope they'll be great just like him They learn abnout hedge funds and bond yields and stuff Things I don't understand They learn how to never say I have enough Just grab all you can with both hands. In that little school in the next village over They children asked why when the doors were all closed And the government said Mr Tepper must get what he's owed Well now and again, the fine Mr Tepper turns up on Bloomberg TV He'll talk of the Stealers, he might even sing you a song Where other bond holders might show some respect A glimmer of guilt for a million lives wrecked Not Mr Tepper, he'll brag and he'll boast all day long Of great credit stories, of playing the game, Of annexing countries with ease How he and his army just won't be crammed down How people are brought to their knees So when you look out at your fine ocean view Beyond the horizon we're thinking of you Cos the government says Mr Tepper must get what he's due......
10.
Leitrim (a brief history) At Carrick-on-Shannon 1845 The landlords of Leitrim in droves did arrive They all to a man were invited to go To the Cora Droma Rúisc Agricultural Show The streets were bedecked with farm produce galore And fashions the likes of which weren't seen before There were traders from Sligo displaying their wares A band from Drumsna played enlivening airs When the show it had ended, the gentry repaired To Churches' hotel where a menu was served Of pedigree beef, fine lamb and fish They feasted on every concieveable dish The head of the table, Lord Leitrim, stood up and said Gentlemen, let us now raise a cup To our Lord Lieutenant, Victoria our Queen, The finest monarch that Ireland has seen A farmer from Mohill rose from his chair And begged the indulgence of everyone there It falls upon me, sir, I regret to say To temper with caution this glorious day There's news of a curse that is borne on the breeze A newly discovered potato disease There are tubours in Flanders, black in the ground, But there other sources of food can be found I fear that this blackness is coming our way Alternative sustenance without delay must be found if our tenants are going to survive For it's on the potato alone that they thrive Lord Leitrim laughed, put down his beer Regarded the good Farmer Smyth with a sneer This talk of blight and of shortage of food Doesn't do my appetite any good And so Farmer Smyth we beseech you and pray Do not sully and darken this wonderful day With your message of doom, your pessimist frown We demand sir at once you desist and sit down For potatoes are plentiful and disease free And potatoes are perfect nutritionally To feed all out peasants and keep them content To pay us our somewhat exorbitant rent Carrick-on-Shannon 2005, The town had expanded and businesses thrived We were the landlords, a new King was crowned A tiger whose unrestrained greed knew no bounds A few brave dissenters said "people, take care, There's a blight on our finances, please be aware, That it's all built on nothing, why such demand For houses of clay on foundations of stand" Our valiant leader rose up and said Begrudgers like you would be better off dead We'll be the first boom to never go bust No reason to change, there's no need to adjust For Captain Fitzpatrick and Corporal Drumm Will march all our destinies into the sun And loose regulation will set our boys free To do what they like to our economy Languishing here in my ghostly estate The tiger is gone now the wolf's at the gate A ghost of that farmer from black '45 Still haunts the highways with told-you-so cries Still we don't listen, we don't want to hear that the good times will end, that the swill disappears And all the pig-troughing's no more in the offing Til it's too late Now Lord Leitrim is gone and his tenants are free There's a NAMA hotel where his home used to be And a new type of landlord lays claim to our land Speaking a language I don't understand.............

about

This collection of ten songs was written over 5 years, and recorded by Ray Duffy in the Glen’s Centre, Manorhamilton, County Leitrim.

The songs are mainly inspired by events in post-celtic tiger Ireland. I have always tried to get a message across in every song I write – I take the approach that if some-one chooses to give up a few minutes to listen to your work, give them something to think about. I immerse myself in the subject matter of a song once the inital idea occurs to me – because of this, many of the songs took several months to write, often with an elusive word or phrase eventually falling into place when I least expect it.

When I began writing these songs, I had no idea that the rough recordings and accompanying videos thrown together in my spare bedroom would meet with such a response, with several million views on social media. Having finally gotten around to getting them recorded and mastered professionally, and I’m delighted with the result.

Particular thanks to Ray Duffy for his invaluable contribution over the past eight months - this project would not have been possible without his expertise and patience.

Special thanks to Christy Moore for his encouragement and guidance, to Frank Doherty for showing me all the chords and introducing me to all the great song writers back in Letterkenny all those years ago, to Charlie McGettigan for all his advice and to Enda Stenson for starting the ball rolling.

Mick Blake
Leitrim Village
February 2017

Dedicated to Matthew, Mia and Milo, and to Mary - thanks for thirty great years. xx

credits

released March 17, 2017

Arrangements, vocals, harmonies, piano, guitar, midi strings and horns, bass, concertina, accordian - Mick Blake

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Mick Blake Leitrim Village, Ireland

Mick Blake is a singer/songwriter based in County Leitrim. His songs have a strong message, covering topics such as social injustice, inequality and war.

His song “Oblivious” was covered by Christy Moore, and appears on Moore’s latest album, “Lily”.
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