You couldn't believe when they told you that she'd never been 'round here before
Thought she hung out in the Cologne Hotel, or with the Cubans in the Puerta Del Sol
And when she smiled all you thought about was running up Suicide Hill
And nothing short of a bullet could've broken your will

And all for the hand of Magdelena
Your boots planted in the soil of Spain
Like her tears in the Spanish rain
All for the Hand of Magdelena

Clark Gable with a bayonet, you never thought anyone could look so cool
And she could handle that Soviet pistol like she learned to do it in school
You fell in love in an air raid, a bombshell sanctioned attraction
You were wet with fear, she was wet with passion

And all for the hand of Magdelena
Your boots planted in the soil of Spain
Like her tears in the Spanish rain
All for the Hand of Magdelena

Your mother could never understand why her son took the call to arms
And her father could never understand how she could fall for your Republican charms
Magdelena, Magdelena, Magdelena... the choice was never ours

In a week and a half you'll be walking down Forty-second street again
And you can read it in the New York Times they're plagiarizing Ernest Hemingway
And you can touch that spot where a fascist bullet nearly severed your arm
But that's nothing like the way that your soul was scarred

And all for the hand of Magdelena
Your heart broken in the soil of Spain
Like her tears in the Spanish rain
All for the Hand of Magdelena

And all for the hand of Magdelena
Your blood's red like the soil of Spain
Like her tears in the Spanish rain
All for the Hand of Magdelena
The Hand of Magdelena
The Hand of Magdelena



Lyrics submitted by mafiachuck

For The Hand Of Magdelena song meanings
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    General Comment"I remember reading "For Whom The Bell Tolls" and being able to feel the sunlight and the rain and the wind in the Spanish countryside. An early romance at sixteen with everything Spanish (had to be nature... wasn't nurture) along with a growing political awareness of the events of the Spanish civil war left me with a melancholy obsession with the holy trinity of food, romance and anti-fascism. The lives and times of the Abraham Lincoln brigade and the Mackenzie Papineau battalion also imbued this scenario with a grass-roots nobility that struck a chord in me. Several trips through Spain in the late eighties and early nineties led to the writing of Magdalena, and it's still a favourite of mine."
    --Ron Hawkins
    NoTimeForAgencyon November 16, 2004   Link

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