Still…the man and the ideals.
“Old pirates, yes, they rob I
Sold I to the merchant ships
Minutes after they took I
From the bottomless pit
But my hand was made strong
By the hand of the Almighty
We forward in this generation
Triumphantly
Won’t you help to sing
These songs of freedom?
Because all I ever have
Redemption songs
Emancipate yourselves from mental slavery
None but ourselves can free our minds!
Have no fear for atomic energy
Because none of them can stop the time
How long shall they kill our prophets
While we stand aside and look?
Some say it’s just a part of it
We’ve got to fulfill the book” — Bob Marley, Redemption Song, Uprising (1980)
scottishmomus 
Awesome post 🙂
Thanks for sharing ❤
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That’s the first song I ever played on the guitar. A favorite. In fact, I sport the Lion of Judah on the back of my neck.
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I never tire of hearing him sing this. Can’t play the guitar right enough. So are you proficient? And do you sport dreadlocks over the tat? I need to know these things. 🙂
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Yes, I am proficient, I play guitar, piano, marimba, french horn, and drum kit. I took a minor in voice when I graduated college, with a major in music business.
Okay, confessional time: I was once a young woman that thought she could embrace the Rastafarian movement as her own. Honestly, it was probably just my unyielding lust for Bob Marley and an excuse to smoke pot. I did once grow dreadlocks. It wasn’t pretty, for I am the whitest descendant of all the pigment-free Irish ever to have crossed the ocean. Red dreadlocks over a freckled face is just embarrassing. By my early thirties (I mean 20’s, because I’m 26 of course), I thought I had confiscated all pictorial evidence. I was positive it was all gone, besides the tat, which I love.
Unfortunately, I had forgotten that I had my drivers license renewed during this… Phase. My husband was going through some old things of ours a few years ago and found it. He’s still laughing, in fact, he’s sitting beside me, laughing while I make my full confession. I’m lucky it’s not up on the internet. It would draw a zillion hits.
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Not moderating comments to make life easier means I nearly missed this belter. I want pics! A red-headed dred! Whats your hub’s email address, just wonderin’…
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Oh, you don’t really want to see it. It’s something you can never unsee.
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You mean like diddies in the past with their bell-bottomed flairs and platform shoes? Or the dreaded parental tango between the sheets? Ok, I’m good with not seeing. My eyes ain’t all they used to be.
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Exactly.
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