PITY THE POOR IMMIGRANTS

 

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Bob Dylan’s song with (almost) the same title sounds haunting and meaningful but, like many of his compositions, is more a clever word-play than real attempt to comment on a social problem (from John Wesley Harding – an excellent album nevertheless). He never was really a ‘protest’ singer – more a poet, as he himself once admitted with style winning over substance in most cases. Still a great songwriter though.

‘I pity the poor immigrant
Who wishes he would’ve stayed home
Who uses all his power to do evil
But in the end is always left so alone
That man whom with his fingers cheats
And who lies with ev’ry breath
Who passionately hates his life
And likewise, fears his death.’

However, after seeing the distressing pictures of thousands shipwrecked in the Med it was that title which popped into my head. Bob’s words felt inappropriate and cynical so I wrote my own (and why not?) which summed up my feelings on the current crisis. This was also after reading various newspaper accounts, most of which were inconclusive about how to solve the multiple problems. The best analysis I found was by Roger Boyes in The Times, 22nd April 2015, where he concludes, ‘What is needed is a recognition that there is a long-term process under way, one that demands long-term policies. The turmoil in the Middle East now resembles Europe’s Thirty Years War, a conflict that will be neither short nor clean. It’s a struggle for political and religious order and for the whole concept of statehood in the Arab world. The consequence; millions of homeless and stateless.’ In other words, whatever strategies are put in place to patrol the Med, stop the traffickers and re-home or return the migrants, etc, the problems will inevitably persist and may quite likely get worse. It is also, of course, a world-wide problem. But, of course, human beings have been migrating since we first left our African source (if we actually did).

There are racists and anti-European groups who instinctively want to keep anyone with a dark skin or foreign creed or culture well away from our borders and yes, immigration should be controlled. But what’s happening in the Med now is a primarily a humanitarian crisis which we should respond to just as we do towards the victims of natural disasters such as earthquakes, famines, floods or hurricanes, etc. Our response, as a relatively wealthy nation, should be generous and coordinated along with other similar states and organisations. In the long term, hopefully, the political upheavals will sort themselves out and many migrants can return home. In the short term it may be many of the dispossessed will have to be accommodated by more stable countries since thousands of shipwrecked people cannot live forever in camps and temporary shelters.

Anyway – here are my lyrics. Hopefully a sound recording or video will follow soon.

PITY THE POOR IMMIGRANTS

Pity the poor immigrants, washed up on the shore,
Like so many others washed up there before.
Running from the conflict, caught up in the fray,
When everything is broken – and there is no other way.
 
Pity the poor immigrants – pity them I say.
Pity the poor immigrants – is there, no other way?
 
Pity the poor immigrants, who sink beneath the waves.
No need for map or compass – to find an early grave.
While over in the distance not so many miles away,
Bathers on a golden beach, laze on holiday.
 
Pity the poor immigrants, whose lives are lived in vain,
Through trials and tribulations, they may never go home again.
And though we close our borders, we cannot close our eyes,
Or fail to hear upon the wind, their desperation cries.
 
Pity the poor immigrants, who walk a ragged line,
Following the rumours of a better place and time.
But when they reach that barbed wire fence, in search of sanctuary,
What cold comfort do we give as they fall to their knees?
 
Pity the poor immigrants, we turn our backs upon.
Hoping when we wake up, in the morning they’ll be gone.
Escaping from injustice, disasters and from war,
Seems the world’s divided like it’s never been before.
 
 Maurice Baker © 2015
 

 

 

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