| When the white man went to Africa
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| With briefcase in his hand
|
| Pristine Bible held in other
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| Whilst black man held the land
|
| Now the black man holds the Bible
|
| And turns to see his land is gone
|
| And you realise the Lord
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| The Lord is a white con
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| Who carved up the continent
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| Like an operating room?
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| Friar Barroso, Reverend Helm
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| And Livingstone, I presume
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| Fire and brimstone in their soul
|
| And buckshot in their belt
|
| The good book or the bullet
|
| That’s the hand the white man dealt
|
| In East Africa, they called you 'boy'
|
| In the West, just plain 'garçon'
|
| And you realise the Lord
|
| The Lord is a white con
|
| When the Scotsman went to Caribbean
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| With his lectern on the boat
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| He stepped to shore, and took the young man
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| Tightly by the throat
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| Any man who sleeps with man
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| To Hades, he’ll be gone
|
| And you realise the Lord
|
| The Lord is a white con
|
| And as he taught them every single verse
|
| To old Amazing Grace
|
| Bedding Bounty Killer and Buju Banton
|
| Perfectly in place
|
| Fire and brimstone in their soul
|
| And buckshot in their belt
|
| The good book or the bullet
|
| That’s the hand the white man dealt
|
| In East Africa, they called you 'boy'
|
| In the West, just plain 'garçon'
|
| And you realise the Lord
|
| The Lord is a white con
|
| When the white folk started singing
|
| They only did in solemn prayer
|
| And not till Pops and Mavis did
|
| The spirit take them there
|
| Now the gospel singer, she plays the clubs
|
| And the soul man cleans the john
|
| And you realise the Lord
|
| The Lord is a white con
|
| Blind Boy Fuller, Howling Wolf
|
| And all the blues men gone
|
| All we’ve got to show for it
|
| Is Joss Stone at No. 1
|
| Fire and brimstone in their soul
|
| And buckshot in their belt
|
| The good book or the bullet
|
| That’s the hand the white man dealt
|
| In East Africa, they called you 'boy'
|
| In the West, just plain 'garçon'
|
| And you realise the Lord
|
| The Lord is a white con
|
| [Bridge 1
|
| When the white man started singing
|
| He put finger straight in ear
|
| He wouldn’t play a song or style
|
| That might risk his career
|
| Previously, a slave would trade
|
| His freedom for the chance
|
| To get off boat, and for the white man
|
| Do a song or dance
|
| Now the whole world’s screaming R 'n' B
|
| But it’s whiter than a swan
|
| And finally, you realise
|
| The Lord’s a blue-eyed con
|
| Old Jim Crow, the Minstrel Show
|
| The whole of history
|
| You think you’ll make it up to them
|
| With a touch of Harper Lee?
|
| Fire and brimstone in their soul
|
| And buckshot in their belt
|
| The good book or the bullet
|
| That’s the hand the white man dealt
|
| In East Africa, they called you 'boy'
|
| In the West, just plain 'garçon'
|
| And you realise the Lord
|
| The Lord is a white con |