Bill and Bob (The Mack-Pap Song)

 

Bill and Bob were inseparable mates

In the good times and in dire straits

Buddies from school in their Alberta mining town.

Bob learned fiddle from his old grandpa

Bill played whistle and a little guitar

They had more time for that

When the bosses shut the mine down.

 

In the union they knew there was strength

Starvation was kept at arm’s length

But as the sun grew stronger so did their desire to roam

The news from Spain had them dismayed

They agreed to join the International Brigade

Took a train to New York and left behind their home.

 

Their visas were only good for France,

But they led the border guards a merry dance

After a fortnight they turned up at a training camp

Bill said: “How the hell can we win a war,

When all these rifles need a re-bore?”

Bob laughed: “What’s the use of

complaining now, champ?”

 

Their first action was not at the front,

But in Barcelona on a Trotskyite hunt.
The friends agreed that something just didn’t seem right.

Then out to Jarama and Brunete after that

In shallow trenches with the fleas and the rats

And with comrades falling like flies in every fight.

 

Amid the mud and the blood and the fear,

Their instruments still would appear

And reels and jigs would lift men’s spirits high.

But in the retreat from a frozen Teruel

After three months of absolute hell

Bob’s whistle was silenced by a Breda Sixty-Five.

Bill felt his world had come to an end

With the loss of his dearest of friends

And fought like a berserker ready for death

But in the clashes that were still to come

His battle cry was the name of his chum

It was revenge and not a

death wish drove every breath.

 

When the Brigades were finally withdrawn

On a bright September morn

Tears fell down as on high were raised clenched fists.

Canada didn’t want those lads back

Bill had to sleep rough under a sack

And when he finally got home his name was on a blacklist

No monument honoured those dead

But their faces still swam round his head

No pension and no work was the survivors’ fate.

As anti-fascists somewhat premature

They didn’t even let them join in the war.
Leaving Bill to play slow airs to honour his mate.

Bill and Bob had been inseparable friends

In the good times...   

 

..................................................................

 

Bill i Bob (La cançó dels Mack-Pap*)

 

Bill i Bob eren companys inseparables

en els bons moments i en les dificultats.

Van ser amics de l'escola a la seva ciutat minera d'Alberta.

Bob va aprendre el violí del seu vell avi,

Bill tocava la flauta dolça i una mica la guitarra

tenien més temps per això

quan els caps van tancar la mina.

 

Al sindicat sabien que hi havia força

la fam es va mantenir a curta distància.

Però a mesura que el sol es feia més fort,

també ho va fer el desig d’ells de vagar.

Les notícies d'Espanya els van consternar,

Van acordar unir-se a la Brigada Internacional,

van agafar un tren cap a Nova York i van deixar casa seva.

 

Els seus visats només eren bons per a França,

però van evitar els guàrdies fronterers

i al cap de quinze dies es van presentar a un camp d'entrenament.

Bill va dir: "Com dimonis podem guanyar una guerra,

quan tots aquests rifles necessiten un rebobinat?"

Bob va riure: "De què serveix queixar-se ara, campió?"

 

La seva primera acció no va ser al front,

sinó a Barcelona en una caça per capturar trotskistes.

Els dos amics van coincidir que alguna cosa no anava bé.

Després van ser enviats a Terol

en trinxeres poc profundes amb les puces i les rates

I amb els companys que queien com mosques a cada baralla.

 

Enmig del fang i la sang i la por,

els seus instruments encara apareixien

i les melodies populars enlairavenn l'ànim dels homes.

Però en la retirada d'una Terol glaçada

després de tres mesos d'infern absolut

la flauta de Bob va ser silenciada per un Breda Seixanta-Cinc.

 

Bill va sentir que el seu món s'havia acabat

amb la pèrdua del seu amic més estimat

i va lluitar com un boig preparat per a la mort.

En els enfrontaments que encara estaven per venir

el seu crit de batalla era el nom del seu company.

Era venjança i no un desig de mort el que va impulsar cada respiració.

 

Quan finalment es van retirar les Brigades

en un matí lluminós de setembre,

les llàgrimes queien quan s'alçaven els punys tancats.

Canadà no volia que aquests nois tornessin i

Bill va haver de dormir malament sota un sac.

Quan finalment va arribar a casa, el seu nom estava en una llista negra.

 

Cap monument va homenatjar els morts

però les seves cares encara perseguien a Bill.

Ni pensió ni feina era el destí dels supervivents.

Com a antifeixistes "una mica prematurs"

ni tan sols els van deixar unir-se a la segona guerra mundial.

i Bill tocava melodies lentes per honrar la seva parella.

 

Bill i Bob havien estat amics inseparables

En els bons moments........

* The Mackenzie–Papineau Battalion