Mickey MacConnell
Singer / Songwriter

 

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The First Good Friday

Sunlight claws a far horizon
bleeding, burning, blazing blinding
the darkness melts in a burst of crimson flame.
Sunlight pours down on the trees
and drips like honey through the leaves
on two countrymen met on a dusty lane.

Hello Daniel, you’re out bright and early
and by your clothes I’d say its fairly
safe to say you’re heading for the town.
Aye last night I heard the whole sad story
of what’s befallen Joe and Mary
and I thought it only right to rally round.

I hear they didn’t bring the body home
to bury him here with their own
some people say big Joe was too ashamed.
And herself, I hear, took it so bad
that she hasn’t spoke a single word
she’s just sitting there and whispering his name.

Sure ‘twas her that filled the young lad’s head
with things she heard and stuff she read
‘tis said ’twas that that drove the lad astray.
Aye when you’re not content with what you have
its easy to go to the bad
not like your young lad like all the neighbours say.

They’re not all as smart as our young Judas
he’s the sharpest, he’s the shrewdest
a perfect son, our constant pride and joy.
He’s got so much money stays out so late
now that he’s working for the State
That’s Judas, That’s My Boy.

Joe’s young lad really knew his craft
his joinery was a work of art
I’d say he was gifted with his father’s hands.
There was a lot of her in him as well
and she seemed to have him in her spell
as she sat there smiling, making all her plans.

Mind you he was the lad could shoe a cart
before he had to get too smart
and went mingling with the rabble in the town.
Aye and he mixed with whores and pimps and thieves
and mad prophets and their crazy priests
not like your young lad, he’d never let you down.

Well, I’ll let you be upon your way
I’ve caused you far too much delay
and at this time of year theres so much work to do.
I suppose my calling means no more
than to tell them that’s what friends are for
and I’ll let them know that you’ll be calling too.

When the evening sun goes down
I’ll dress myself and I’ll go to town
and I’ll say how much I’m sorry to big Joe.
And I’ll try not to look into his eyes
or listen to the mother’s cries
as I lift the latch and out the door I go.

Sunrise claws a far horizon
bleeding, burning, blazing blinding
the darkness melts in a burst of crimson flame.
Sunlight pours down on the trees
and drips like honey through the leaves
on two countrymen met on a dusty lane.

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