Tag: Manuel Zelaya

A Song For Honduras

Crossposted from Fire on The Mountain.

Golpe (Honduras) — Lyrics & Music by Simon Rios

Oye, Nica, Salvadoreño,

Indio, Garifuna, Brazileiro,

Gringo, Gaucho, y Caraqueño,

Chilango, Cholo, Potorro y Porteño

Esto es una llamada, en nombre de los Hondureños

Hay ke levantarnos todos, por este justo desempeño

Hay que defender ese pueblo, con puño y con cerebro

Hay que defender ese pueblo, con puño y con cerebro

June 28th, 2,009 was the day

When they uprooted los catrachos, from the progresista way.

Mel Zelaya was the president, who’d gone from right to left,

He was a magnate of the old school, but was calling out the theft

& pillage of Honduras, & the whole of the continente

by los gringos asesinos, & their local asistentes.

So they kidnapped Mel at gunpoint, at five o clock in the morn

And America woke that Sunday, said what the hell is going on?

Que carajo esta pasando? Otro golpe militar!

Otro once de septiembre, otro tiempo pa gritar!

This isn’t about Manuel Zelaya, it ain’t about the constitution,

It’s about the oligarchía, and it’s about the revolution.

The Honduran Magna Carta, was designed by the ruling class

With the oversight of Washington, & the rulers of the past

And Zelaya wanted reform, to promote participation

Cuz democracy ain’t about, pulling a lever & waiting patient

It ain’t about a rich criollo, sucking blood out of the nation

Its about power to the people, & the old order is changing

Pues America esta cambiando, por un modelo socialista,

anti-fascista, contra estes malditos golpistas

Tres-cientos mil up en la calle, dicen Zelaya no se va!

Los golpistas dicen democracia, mientras hacen coup d’etat

It’s like saying save the trees, while revving a chainsaw

It’s like saying it ain’t me babe, when you’re the one I saw.

And the golpistas waved a banner, reading we shall overcome

Which side would Martin be on, if Martin could’ve come?

Oxala pudiera cantarte, una rolita mas alegre

But the golpe en Honduras, makes me mutherfucking angry

I wish this was a nightmare, or a skit on cha cha cha

But its real as rigor mortis, cuz they made a coup d’etat

Hay que tener rabia pueblo, Honduras es America

La misma sangre y consigna, desde Ushuaia hasta Merida

Y de ahi para Recife, y de ahi pa Torreón

Desde el bosque de Chapultepec, hasta las minas de Cerrejón.

No importa que pinche dia, no importa en que lugar,

Pues la esperanza comun, es lo quieren asesinar.

And they speak of an invasion by Venezolano agents

Y no aguantamos eso, they say, cuz we’re a sovereign nation.

Sovereign nation? With a gringo base in Chaperola?

You mean sovereign to the people? Or sovereign to Coca Cola?

And you’d be foolish if you thought that the gringos didn’t play a role

You think that the ambassador, Hugo Llorens, didn’t know?

This ain’t the US of Obama, but of Reich & of la CIA

The ones who planned the golpe contra Hugo Chavez Frias

The ones who killed Allende, & who tried to kill Fidel

The ones who speak of freedom, while manifesting hell

The ones who infiltrated the mighty Tupamaros

The ones who drew & quartered, the brave Tupac Amaru

The ones who own la prensa, y las haciendas y maquilas

The ones who stand to profit, from the riches of the minas

And the reporters of the mainstream, are more full of shit & piss

Than the sewage tank at midnight, on the Chinatown Express

Sowing fear of comunismo, and a thousand huevonadas

Cuz la prensa esta vendida, y su gente, comprada

Comiendo baleadas, mientras los pobres comen basura,

And they still can’t understand, why there’s tanta amargura

And you think they give a damn about the starvation of a people?

The disenfranchising of a people? the genocide of a people?

Cuz they’re killing little kids, & they’re killing periodistas,

They’re killing esperanzas, & they’re killing sindicalistas.

Here’s a fist up for Murillo, martyr of Tegucigalpa

Whose death served to make la resistencia stand mas alta

Here a fist up to COFADEH, OFRANEH, y el COPINH

From the pueblo of Geronimo & Martin Luther King.

This is the wakening of Honduras, in the form of a class war

It’s a fight of good & evil, & the good ones are the poor

Nothing more, and it sure ain’t nothing less

And it wont stop till the coup drops, and justicia is addressed.

Caerá la dictadura, como todos los demas

Y llegará un tiempo de justicia, justicia con paz

Pero mientras tanto y los llantos, los molestaré con mi canto

En frente de las marchas, con mas bravura que mil Rambos

Ambos ladosde la izkierda y por debajo

Venceremos Hondureño dale duro pueblo catracho.