Henry's Songbook

They didn't hear your music and they tore your paintings down
They wouldn't read your writing and they banned you from the town
But they couldn't stop you dreaming, and a victory you've won
For you sowed the seeds of freedom in your daughters and your sons
In your daughters and your sons
In your daughters and your sons
You sowed the seeds of freedom in your daughters and your sons

Your weary smile, it proudly hides the chain-marks on your hands
For you've bravely strived to realise the rights of everyone
But though your body's bent and low, a victory you've won
For you sowed the seeds of justice in your daughters and your sons
In your daughters and your sons
In your daughters and your sons
You sowed the seeds of justice in your daughters and your sons

I don't know your religion but one day I heard you pray
For a world where everyone can work and children they can play
And though you never got your share and the fruits that you have won
You sowed the seeds of equality in your daughters and your sons
In your daughters and your sons
In your daughters and your sons
You sowed the seeds of equality in your daughters and your sons

They taunted you in Belfast and they tortured you in Spain
And in that Warsaw ghetto where they tied you up in chains
In Vietnam and Chile, when they came with tanks and guns
It's there you sowed the seeds of peace in your daughters and your sons
In your daughters and your sons
In your daughters and your sons
It's there you sowed the seeds of peace in your daughters and your sons

And now your music's playing, and the writing's on the wall
And all the dreams you painted can be seen by one and all
And now you've got them thinking, and the future's just begun
For you sowed the seeds of freedom in your daughters and your sons
In your daughters and your sons
In your daughters and your sons
You sowed the seeds of freedom in your daughters and your sons

[1985:] Bob Cooney, one of the finest people I ever knew, once wrote, "Freedom's an infectious thing - no frontier can contain it." The long march began when we crawled out of the swamp - we're nearly there. (Notes Dick Gaughan, 'Live In Edinburgh')

[1989:] Dedicated to the people who have given so much of their lives trying to make the world a better place to live in. (Notes Tommy Sands, 'Singing of the Times')