Bubu

My wife ran off with some darn gentile
And left me with our baby, Harn, our unborn child.
I was my own baby sitter and my own midwife
In this bottomless pit of pre-Exodus life for a while.

My name's Tartar, or Bubu to some
I don't eat any lard or know what has become of my past.
In my arms, I'm holding my baby Harn,
He's just seven days old and it may be his last.

See the babies thrashing,
See the Nile flow
Hear the mothers screaming as the babies go below.
If they take our children now will we be next to go

In the blink of an eye, another baby goes down
Wa, wa, baby.
If he doesn't come up one less diaper will brown,
Wa, wa, doody.
Why should I subject my son
To liquid death in searing sun
Why should I give up my kin
Since when is being born a sin

See the babies thrashing,
See the Nile flow
Hear the mothers screaming as the babies go below.
If they take our children now will we be next to go

I've got to try to save my son
Because his life has just begun.
I'll put him in the river Nile
And maybe he will float a while longer.


No recording available
Copyright 1992 Zach London

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