Nous étions 5000 a parcourir les 10 km de cette première marche qui nous a
amené à venir protester contre le symbole de la partition de la Bretagne.
Des milliers de citoyens déterminés à montrer la lassitude et la colère
d'une situation qui reste depuis trop longtemps sans réponse démocratique
de la part des institutions.
Une motivation sans précédent accompagnait les manifestants. En effet, les
trois quarts ont pris le nouveau pont Eric Tabarly, menant au centre ville
par le château des ducs de Bretagne, rallongeant le parcourt initial de
deux kilomètres ! Les actes de barbouillages dans les rues nantaises, le
concours de jet d'oufs de peinture sur le palais de région, auront marqué
la solidarité populaire qui existe autour des barbouilleurs volontaires
sous le coup de procédures judiciaires. Le palais de région était sous
surveillance policière... Malgré la volonté des manifestants de rester
dans le cadre d'actes pacifiques et symboliques, un manifestant se sera
fait arrête entrainant une certaine tension. Une arrestation inutile qui
aurait bien faillit dégénérer. Mais voilà le commissaire Bouhier s'ést
pris un peu peinture sur la casquette, et n'a pas apprécié... C'est en
tout cas ce que semble avoir dit les policiers qui ont interrogé Jérôme*,
militant au collectif 44=Breizh, qui est sorti il y a une petite heure du
commissariat.
Actuellement, la fête pour l'unité de la Bretagne et nos droits
démocratiques, linguistiques et culturels continue ! D'autres personnes
arrivent pour les concerts d'Unité Maü Maü, Alan Simon, Nolwenn Korbell,
Costik et... les Ramoneurs de Menhirs !!!
On attend la réponse que donneront les responsables politiques à ces
milliers de personnes convaincus qui ont manifesté pour l'unité de la
Bretagne, mais aussi le retour du breton à la fac de Nantes, sur les
antennes publiques de Loire-Atlantique et à la TV, ...
The trees they grow high,
the leaves they do grow green
Many is the time my true love I've seen
Many an hour I have watched him all alone
He's young,
but he's daily growing.
Father, dear father,
you've done me great wrong
You have married me to a boy who is too young
I'm twice twelve and he is but fourteen
He's young,
but he's daily growing.
Daughter, dear daughter,
I've done you no wrong
I have married you to a great lord's son
He'll be a man for you when I am dead and gone
He's young,
but he's daily growing.
Father, dear father, if you see fit
We'll send him to college for another year yet
I'll tie blue ribbons all around his head
To let the maidens know that he's married.
One day I was looking o'er my father's castle wall
I spied all the boys aplaying at the ball
My own true love was the flower of them all
He's young, but he's daily growing.
And so early in the morning
at the dawning of the day
They went out into the hayfield
to have some sport and play;
And what they did there,
she never would declare
But she never more complained of his growing.
At the age of fourteen, he was a married man
At the age of fifteen, the father of a son
At the age of sixteen, his grave it was green
Have gone, to be wasted in battle.
And death had put an end to his growing.
I'll buy my love some flannel
and I will make a shroud
With every stitch I put in it,
the tears they will pour down
With every stitch I put in it,
how the tears will flow
Cruel fate has put an end to his growing."
"The trees they grow so high and the leaves they do grow green,
And many a cold winter's night my love and I have seen.
Of a cold winter's night, my love, you and I alone have been,
Whilst my bonny boy is young, he's a-growing.
Growing, growing,
Whilst my bonny boy is young, he's a-growing.
O father, dearest father, you've done to me great wrong,
You've tied me to a boy when you know he is too young.
O daughter, dearest daughter, if you wait a little while,
A lady you shall be while he's growing.
Growing, growing,
A lady you shall be while he's growing.
I'll send your love to college all for a year or two
And then in the meantime he will do for you;
I'll buy him white ribbons, tie them round his bonney waist
To let the ladies know that he's married.
Married, married,
To let the ladies know that he's married.
I went up to the college and I looked over the wall,
Saw four and twenty gentlemen playing at bat and ball.
I called to my true love, but they would not let hime come,
All because he was a young boy and growing.
Growing, growing,
All because he was a young boy and growing.
At the age of sixteen, he was a married man
And at the age of seventeen he was a father to a son,
And at the age of eighteen the grass grew over him,
Cruel death soon put an end to his growing.
Growing, growing,
Cruel death soon put an end to his growing.
And now my love is dead and in his grave doth lie,
The green grass grows o'er him so very, very high.
I'll sit and I'll mourn his fate until the day I die,
And I'll watch o'er his child while he's growing.
Growing, growing,
And I'll watch o'er his child while he's growing."
"The trees they grow high,
the leaves they do grow green
Many is the time my true love I've seen
Many an hour I have watched him all alone
He's young,
but he's daily growing.
Father, dear father,
you've done me great wrong
You have married me to a boy who is too young
I'm twice twelve and he is but fourteen
He's young,
but he's daily growing.
Daughter, dear daughter,
I've done you no wrong
I have married you to a great lord's son
He'll be a man for you when I am dead and gone
He's young,
but he's daily growing.
Father, dear father, if you see fit
We'll send him to college for another year yet
I'll tie blue ribbons all around his head
To let the maidens know that he's married.
One day I was looking o'er my father's castle wall
I spied all the boys aplaying at the ball
My own true love was the flower of them all
He's young, but he's daily growing.
And so early in the morning
at the dawning of the day
They went out into the hayfield
to have some sport and play;
And what they did there,
she never would declare
But she never more complained of his growing.
At the age of fourteen, he was a married man At the age of fifteen, the father of a son
At the age of sixteen, his grave it was green
Have gone, to be wasted in battle.
And death had put an end to his growing.
I'll buy my love some flannel
and I will make a shroud
With every stitch I put in it,
the tears they will pour down
With every stitch I put in it,
how the tears will flow
Cruel fate has put an end to his growing.."
