Teachers Discovering History As Historians

Amy Thompson

08 Project Summary

Jamestown High School

American History through Song

Amy Thompson

Jamestown High School

99athompson@jamestown.wnyric.org

April 18, 2007

TAH Project Proposal

Purpose:            The purpose of this project is to offer an opportunity for students to learn history through music, by providing materials that can be used by individual teachers in various classes or together in a potential new course offering in the future.

Objective:          The objective of this project is to collect and create teaching materials for several history units.  These materials will include suggested activities and historical backgrounds relating directly to musical works/songs that may be used in the classroom.

Stakeholders:   These materials will be geared for use in secondary social studies classrooms and may be useful across several content concentrations, including Global History, US History and Government, Government and Economics, and various electives.  This project will especially benefit the heterogeneous classroom that includes auditory learners, poor readers and/or students with learning disabilities.  It is anticipated that these materials will be made available to my own district, as well as TAH members, possibly through the TAH website.

Content Area:   This project will primarily focus on US History; however, the content focus will be scattered to many different time periods/topics based on the applicability and availability of relevant musical examples.

Outline:              Following is a tentative outline of anticipated content.  While roughly chronological in arrangement, it is going to be addressed from a thematic approach.

I.                     Revolution (theme)

II.                   Constitution

III.                  Civil War (theme)

IV.               Industry/Capitalism

V.                 Transportation

VI.               Labor Organizations

VII.              Socialism/Communism

VIII.            Immigration

IX.               Manifest Destiny

X.                 Farming

XI.               Progressivism

XII.              Imperialism

XIII.            World Wars

XIV.          Depression

XV.           Automobiles

XVI.          Civil Liberties/Civil Rights Movement

XVII.        Cold War

XVIII.       Vietnam War/Counterculture

XIX.          Environment

XX.           Terrorism

XXI.          Middle East

Software:           The Internet will be utilized for most of the required research.  No additional software should be required.

Timeline:           It is anticipated that this project will be completed over the course of the remainder of the present school year.  If necessary, the summer will be utilized as well.

District Approvals: No special district approval is expected to be needed.  While much of the Internet research will be completed on a home computer, any related Internet research required for this project on district computers does not violate any acceptable use policies.

Amy Thompson

Jamestown High School

June 10, 2008

TAH Project Reflective Piece

When I began this project, I was anticipating more of a Global History and US History schedule for the following semester, but, unfortunately, plans changed.  As a result, I was only able to teach a couple Global Review classes this year, which severely limited my ability to implement the project I created.  I was, however, able to try out a few pieces that fit into a Global History curriculum.

The first thing that I learned was that the Internet is a wealth of information, but also a wealth of garbage.  This made the research component of my project much more time-consuming than I anticipated.  Now that I have completed it, though, I see that I have created a valuable resource for teachers who do not have the patience to wade through the overwhelming mound of material that I discovered.  I also learned that the filtering system through BOCES will suspend your Internet privileges if you Google certain words!

I used the song lyrics in a primary source document format, but I have decided that many of the songs would have been much more effective at enhancing student interest and learning if I had actual downloaded recordings of them being performed.  This is where I discovered a true limitation in my technology skills.  I am only just now learning about downloading music and using iTunes, so maybe in the future I will be able to supplement my project song list with links to the actual song files.  The lyrics on their own certainly have tremendous potential for learning and discussion, but I believe that teachers interested in using any of these songs may want to look into finding the recordings for use in their classrooms.  I have been able to obtain copies of several of these song recordings in digital format, but, again, I lack the knowledge to link them to the list that I compiled. 

I actually did experience some technical growth that I did not anticipate when I proposed this project.  I was able to hone my Internet research skills and I learned much more advanced formatting in Microsoft Word than I ever expected.  For example, I taught myself how to create bookmarks that I could hyperlink to the song lyrics in order to make the document more manageable.

I believe that my students did benefit from my completion of this project, both from their experience of the songs as primary sources in the classroom, but also through the extra growth and information that I experienced throughout the process.  I was able to enhance their unit study with more informal, tangible, comprehensive data in a much more comfortable format than merely handing them a DBQ document.  Students seemed much more open to reading song lyrics than reading memoirs or even interpreting political cartoons.  Music seems to add a level of comfort and familiarity to the topic and this makes them more willing to approach a deeper level of critical thinking.  The songs that I did play for them in the classroom were definitely not of the genre that the students were used to, but they listened more politely than they might have if they had heard the song on the radio outside of class.  I think this shows that they have learned the value of listening to popular music in a different way.

This project was definitely a challenge for me, but I feel I have created a product that can serve as a catalyst for a number of classroom applications.  I realize that I have only just barely scratched the surface and I will, therefore, continue adding to my list as I find more and more sources.  More important than the finished product, though, the TAH grant has provided me with the opportunity to push my own content knowledge limits and technological knowledge limits to make me a better-prepared and more enthusiastic teacher.  This will certainly make a difference in my classroom and improve my students’ academic experience as a result.

Amy Thompson--JHS

TAH PROJECT: American History Through Song

 “Just Before the Battle Mother” (1864)

George F. Root

Just before the battle, mother,

I am thinking most of you,

While upon the field we're watching

With the enemy in view.

Comrades brave are 'round me lying,

Filled with thoughts of home and God

For well they know that on the morrow,

Some will sleep beneath the sod.

CHORUS:

Farewell, mother, you may never

Press me to your breast again,

But, oh, you'll not forget me, mother,

If I'm numbered with the slain.

Oh, I long to see you, mother,

And the loving ones at home,

But I'll never leave our banner,

Till in honor I can come.

Tell the traitors all around you

That their cruel words we know,

In every battle kill our soldiers

By the help they give the foe.

Hark! I hear the bugles sounding,


'Tis the signal for the fight,


Now, may God protect us, mother,


As He ever does the right.


Hear the "Battle-Cry of Freedom,"


How it swells upon the air,


Oh, yes, we'll rally 'round the standard,


Or we'll perish nobly there.

“Dixie”

Daniel Decatur Emmett, 1859

I wish I was in the land of Cotton

Old times there are not forgotten

Look away! Look away! Look away!

Dixie Land

In Dixie Land where I was born in

early on one frosty morning'

Look away! Look away! Look away!

Dixie Land

Chorus

Then I wish I was in Dixie

Hooray! Hooray!

In Dixie Land

I'll take my stand

To live and die in Dixie

Away! Away! Away!

Down South in Dixie.

Away! Away! Away!

Down South in Dixie.

Ole Missus marry "will the weaver"

Willum was a gay deceiver

Look away! Look away! Look away!

Dixie Land

But when he put his arm around er,

He smiled fierce as a forty pounder,

Look away! Look away! Look away!

Dixie Land

His face was sharp as a butcher's cleaver

But that did not seem to grieve 'er

Look away! Look away! Look away!

Dixie Land

Ole Missus acted the foolish part

And died for a man that broke her heart

Look away! Look away! Look away!

Dixie Land

Now here's a health to the next ole Missus

An' all the gals that want to kiss us;

Look away! Look away! Look away!

Dixie Land

But if you want to drive 'way sorrow

Come and hear this song tomorrow

Look away! Look away! Look away!

Dixie Land

There's buckwheat cakes and Injun batter,

Makes you fat or a little fatter;

Look away! Look away! Look away!

Dixie Land

Then hoe it down and scratch your gravel,

To Dixie's Land I'm bound to travel,

Look away! Look away! Look away!

Dixie Land

“Away Down South In the Land of Traitors”

Anonymous, 1860s                                                     (tune of Dixie)

Away down South in the land of traitors,

Rattlesnakes and alligators,

Right away, come away, right away, come away.

Where cotton's king and men are chattels,

Union boys will win the battles,

Right away, come away, right away, come away.

Then we'll all go down to Dixie,

Away, away,

Each Dixie boy must understand,

That he must mind his Uncle Sam,

Away, away,

And we'll all go down to Dixie.

Away, away,

And we'll all go down to Dixie.

I wish I was in Baltimore,

I'd make Secession traitors roar,

Right away, come away, right away, come away.

We'll put the traitors all to rout,

I'll bet my boots we'll whip them out,

Right away, come away, right away, come away.

Then they'll wish they were in Dixie,

Away, away,

Each Dixie boy must understand,

That he must mind his Uncle Sam,

Away, away,

And we'll all go down to Dixie.

Away, away,

And we'll all go down to Dixie.

Oh, may our Stars and Stripes still wave

Forever o'er the free and brave,

Right away, come away, right away, come away.

And let our motto ever be -

"For Union and for Liberty!"

Right away, come away, right away, come away.

Then we'll all go down to Dixie,

Away, away,

Each Dixie boy must understand,

That he must mind his Uncle Sam,

Away, away,

And we'll all go down to Dixie.

Away, away,

And we'll all go down to Dixie.

“When Johnny Comes Marching Home Again”

Patrick S. Gilmore, 1863

When Johnny Comes Marching Home Again,

Hurrah! Hurrah!

We'll give him a hearty welcome then

Hurrah! Hurrah!

The men will cheer and the boys will shout

The ladies they will all turn out

And we'll all feel gay,

When Johnny comes marching home.

The old church bell will peal with joy

Hurrah! Hurrah!

To welcome home our darling boy

Hurrah! Hurrah!

The village lads and lassies say

With roses they will strew the way,

And we'll all feel gay

When Johnny comes marching home.

Get ready for the Jubilee,

Hurrah! Hurrah!

We'll give the hero three times three,

Hurrah! Hurrah!

The laurel wreath is ready now

To place upon his loyal brow

And we'll all feel gay

When Johnny comes marching home.

“John Brown’s Body”

William Steffe, 1860

John Brown's body lies a-mold'ring in the grave

John Brown's body lies a-mold'ring in the grave

John Brown's body lies a-mold'ring in the grave

His soul goes marching on

Glory, Glory! Hallelujah!

Glory, Glory! Hallelujah!

Glory, Glory! Hallelujah!

His soul is marching on

He captured Harper's Ferry with his nineteen men so true

He frightened old Virginia till she trembled through and through

They hung him for a traitor, themselves the traitor crew

His soul is marching on

Glory, Glory! Hallelujah!

Glory, Glory! Hallelujah!

Glory, Glory! Hallelujah!

His soul is marching on

John Brown died that the slave might be free,

John Brown died that the slave might be free,

John Brown died that the slave might be free,

But his soul is marching on!

Glory, Glory! Hallelujah!

Glory, Glory! Hallelujah!

Glory, Glory! Hallelujah!

His soul is marching on

The stars above in Heaven are looking kindly down

The stars above in Heaven are looking kindly down

The stars above in Heaven are looking kindly down

On the grave of old John Brown

Glory, Glory! Hallelujah!

Glory, Glory! Hallelujah!

Glory, Glory! Hallelujah!

His soul is marching on

“Bonnie Blue Flag”

Harry McCarthy, 1861

We are a band of brothers,

Native to the soil 


Fighting for the property


We gained by honest toil. 


And when our rights were threatened,

The cry rose near and far;

Hurrah for the Bonnie Blue Flag


That bears a single star!



chorus:


Hurrah! Hurrah!
 For Southern rights, Hurrah! 


Hurrah for the Bonnie Blue Flag


That bears a single star! 



As long as the Union


Was faithful to her trust, 


Like friends and brethren,

kind were we, and just; 


But now, when Northern treachery


Attempts our rights to mar, 


We hoist on high the Bonnie Blue flag


That bears a single star. 



First gallant South Carolina


Nobly made the stand, 


Then came Alabama


And took her by the hand; 


Next, quickly, Mississippi,


Georgia, and Florida, 


All raised on high the Bonnie Blue flag


That bears a single star. 



Ye men of valor gather round


The banner of the right,

Texas and fair Louisiana


Join us in the fight; 


Davis, our loved President,


And Stephens statesmen are;


Now rally round the Bonnie Blue Flag


That bears a single star.



And here's to brave Virginia,


The Old Dominion State.


With the young Confederacy


At length has linked her fate. 


Impelled by her example, 


Now other States prepare 


To hoist on high the Bonnie Blue flag


That bears a single star.



Then here's to our Confederacy,


Strong we are and brave,

Like patriots of old we'll fight, 


Our heritage to save. 


And rather than submit to shame, 


To die we would prefer 


So cheer for the Bonnie Blue flag


That bears a single star. 



Then cheer, boys, cheer, 


Raise a joyous shout


For Arkansas and North Carolina


Now have both gone out;

And let another rousing cheer


For Tennessee be given


The single star of the Bonnie Blue Flag 


Has grown to be eleven!

“Follow the Drinking Gourd”

When the sun goes back and the first quail calls

Follow the drinking gourd

The old man is a-waitin' for to carry you to freedom

Follow the drinking gourd

Chorus

Follow the drinking gourd,

follow the drinking gourd

For the old man is a-waitin'

to carry you to freedom

Follow the drinking gourd

The river bed makes a mighty fine road,

Dead trees to show you the way

And it's left foot, peg foot, traveling on

Follow the drinking gourd

The river ends between two hills

Follow the drinking gourd

There's another river on the other side

Follow the drinking gourd

I thought I heard the angels say

Follow the drinking gourd

The stars in the heavens gonna show you the way

Follow the drinking gourd

“Tramp! Tramp! Tramp!”

George F. Root, 1860s

In the prison cell I sit,

Thinking Mother dear of you,

And our bright and happy home so far away,

And the tears they fill my eyes

Spite of all that I can do

Though I try to cheer my comrades

and be gay.

Chorus:

Tramp! tramp! tramp!

The boys are marching

Cheer up comrades,

They will come.

And beneath the starry flag

We shall breathe the air again

Of the free land in our own beloved home.

In the battle front we stood

When their fiercest charge they made,

And they swept us off a hundred men or more;

But before we reached their lines

They were beaten back, dismayed,

And we heard the cry of vict'ry o'er and o'er.

So within the prison cell

We are waiting for the day

That shall come to open wide the iron door;

And the hollow eye grows bright

And the poor heart almost gay

As we think of seeing home and friends once more.

(Confederate lyrics)

In my prison cell I sit,

thinking, Mother, dear, of you,

and my happy Southern home so far away;

and my eyes they fill with tears

'spite of all that I can do,

though I try to cheer my comrades and be gay.

Chorus

Tramp! Tramp! Tramp!

The boys are marching;

cheer up, comrades, they will come.

And beneath the stars and bars

we shall breathe the air again

of freemen in our own beloved home..

In the battle front we stood

when their fiercest charge they made,

and our soldiers by the thousands sank to die;

but before they reached our lines,

they were driven back dismayed,

and the "Rebel yell” went upward to the sky.

Now our great commander Lee

crosses broad Potomac’s stream,

and his legions marching Northward take their way.

On Pennsylvania’s roads

will their trusty muskets gleam,

and her iron hills shall echo to the fray.

In the cruel stockade-pen

dying slowly day by day,

for weary months we've waited all in vain;

but if God will speed the way

of our gallant boys in gray,

I shall see your face, dear Mother, yet again.

When I close my eyes in sleep,

all the dear ones 'round me come,

at night my little sister to me calls;

and mocking visions bring

all the warm delights of home,

while we freeze and starve in Northern prison walls.

So the weary days go by,

and we wonder as we sigh,

if with sight of home we'll never more be blessed.

Our hearts within us sink,

and we murmur, though we try

to leave it all with him who knowest best.

“Unconstructed Rebel” (also “I’m a Good Old Rebel”)

Major Innes Randolph, 1914

Oh, I'm a good old Rebel,

Now that's just what I am;

For this "fair land of Freedom"

I do not care a damn.

I'm glad I fit against it-

I only wish we'd won.

And I don't want no pardon

For anything I've done.

I hates the Constitution,

This great Republic too;

I hates the Freedmen's Buro,

In uniforms of blue.

I hates the nasty eagle,

With all his brag and fuss;

But the lyin', thievin' Yankees

I hates' em wuss and wuss.

We got three hundred thousand

Befo' they conquered us.

They died of Southern fever

And Southern steel and shot;

And I wish it was three million

Instead of what we got.

I can't take up my musket

And fight' em now no mo',

But I ain't a-goin 'to love' em,

Now that is sartin sho';

And I don't want no pardon

For what I was and am;

And I won't be reconstructed,

And I do not give a damn.

“Sixteen Tons”

George Davis, 1930s

CHORUS:

I loaded sixteen tons and what do I get

Another day older and deeper in debt.

Saint Peter don't call me cause I can't go

I owe my soul to the company store.

I was born one morning, was a drizzling rain


A fussing and fighting ain't my middle name.


Well they raised me in a corner by a Mammy hound


I'm as mean as a dog but I'm as gentle as a lamb.

CHORUS

Well I got up one morning, the sun didn't shine,


I picked up my shovel and I went to the mine,


I loaded sixteen ton of that number four coal


The face boss said, ''Well bless my soul!"

CHORUS

I loaded sixteen tons, I tried to get ahead,


Got deeper and deeper in debt instead.


Well they got what I made, and they wanted some more,


And now I owe my soul at the company store.

CHORUS

Well I went to the office to draw some script


The man, he told me -- was a wreck in the dip.


To clear the tracks would be a week or more


But your credit's still good at our company store.

CHORUS

If you see me coming, step aside.


A lot of men didn't and a lot of men died


I got a fist of iron, I got a fist of steel,


The left one don't get you then the right one will.

CHORUS

“Workers of the World, Awaken”

Joe Hill, 1914

Workers of the world, awaken!

Break your chains. demand your rights.

AII the wealth you make is taken

By exploiting parasites.

Shall you kneel in deep submission

From your cradles to your graves?

ls the height of your ambition

To be good and willing slaves?

CHORUS:

Arise, ye prisoners of starvation!

Fight for your own emancipation;

Arise, ye slaves of every nation.

In One Union grand.

Our little ones for bread are crying,

And millions are from hunger dying;

The end the means is justifying,

'Tis the final stand.

If the workers take a notion,

They can stop all speeding trains;

Every ship upon the ocean

They can tie with mighty chains.

Every wheel in the creation,

Every mine and every mill,

Fleets and armies of the nation,

Will at their command stand still.

Join the union, fellow workers,

Men and women, side by side;

We will crush the greedy shirkers


Like a sweeping, surging tide;

For united we are standing,

But divided we will fall;

Let this be our understanding --


"All for one and one for all.''

Workers of the world, awaken!

Rise in all your splendid might;

Take the wealth that you are making,

It belongs to you by right.

No one will for bread be crying,


We'll have freedom, love and health.

When the grand red flag is flying


In the Workers' Commonwealth.

“Solidarity Forever”

Ralph Chaplin, 1915 (tune: “Battle Hymn of the Republic”)

When the union's inspiration through the workers' blood shall run,

There can be no power greater anywhere beneath the sun;

Yet what force on earth is weaker than the feeble strength of one,

But the union makes us strong.

CHORUS:

Solidarity forever,

Solidarity forever,

Solidarity forever,

For the union makes us strong.

Is there aught we hold in common with the greedy parasite,

Who would lash us into serfdom and would crush us with his might?

Is there anything left to us but to organize and fight?

For the union makes us strong.

It is we who plowed the prairies; built the cities where they trade;

Dug the mines and built the workshops, endless miles of railroad laid;

Now we stand outcast and starving midst the wonders we have made


But the union makes us strong.

All the world that's owned by idle drones is ours and ours alone.

We have laid the wide foundations; built it skyward stone by stone.

It is ours, not to slave in, but to master and to own.

While the union makes us strong.

They have taken untold millions that they never toiled to earn,

But without our brain and muscle not a single wheel can turn.

We can break their haughty power, gain our freedom when we learn


That the union makes us strong.

In our hands is placed a power greater than their hoarded gold,

Greater than the might of armies, magnified a thousand-fold.

We can bring to birth a new world from the ashes of the old

For the union makes us strong.

“Stand Up! Ye Workers”

Ethel Comer, 1927 (tune “Stand Up For Jesus”)

Stand up! Stand up! Ye workers,

Stand up in all your might.

Unite beneath our banner,

For liberty and right.

From victory unto victory

This army sure will go,

To win the world for labor

And vanquish every foe.

Stand up! Stand up! Ye workers,

Stand up in every land.

Unite and fight for freedom

In ONE BIG UNION grand.

Put on the workers' armor


Which is the card of Red,

Then all the greedy tyrants

Will have to earn their bread.

Arouse! Arouse! Ye toilers,

The strife will not be long.

This day the noise of battle,

The next the victor's song.

All ye that slave for wages,


Stand up and break your chain:

Unite in ONE BIG UNION --


You've got a world to gain.

“Pie in the Sky [When You Die]” (1911) Joe Hill

Long-haired preachers come out every night,

Try to tell you what's wrong and what's right;

But when asked how 'bout something to eat

They will answer with voices so sweet:

CHORUS:

You will eat, bye and bye,

In that glorious land above the sky;

Work and pray, live on hay,

You'll get pie in the sky when you die.

The starvation army they play,

They sing and they clap and they pray

'Till they get all your coin on the drum

Then they'll tell you when you're on the bum:

Holy Rollers and jumpers come out,

They holler, they jump and they shout.

Give your money to Jesus they say,

He will cure all diseases today.

If you fight hard for children and wife --


Try to get something good in this life --


You're a sinner and bad man, they tell,

When you die you will sure go to hell.

Workingmen of all countries, unite,

Side by side we for freedom will fight;

When the world and its wealth we have gained


To the grafters we'll sing this refrain:

FINAL CHORUS:

You will eat, bye and bye,

When you've learned how to cook and to fry.

Chop some wood, 'twill do you good,

And you'll eat in the sweet bye and bye.

“That Little Lump of Coal”

J.N. York, 1936

Oh, to those who know no better, and the ones who do not care,

I'll take this means of telling you what a miner has to bear.

So when your servant fires the furnace and the smoke and blazes roll,

Just stop, and think who suffered for that little lump of coal.

He gets up in the morning -- he's in the land of Nod --


And at the family altar he will kneel and ask his God


To care for and protect him from the dangers underground,

So he can come back in the evening to his family safe and sound.

He eats a hasty breakfast, fills up his carbide flask, 


Picks up his lamp and bucket, and he's ready for his task.

Says good-bye to wife and baby, stops to kiss them at the door.

He doesn't know if he'll see them in this life anymore.

He's soon below the surface, gets his car up in its place. 


As he swings his pick and shovel the sweat pours off his face. 


He's tired, weak and weary -- two hours have rolled around -- 


But he's got six more to suffer till he gets above the ground.

He's got to set some timbers, and drill a hole or two, 


And then he'll roll some dummies. Then there's something else to do, 


So he stays, toils and labors, loads every car he can


To earn a meager living and to pay the clothing man.

When he lines up at the office with the others in a row 


With their statements signed and ready for their little bit of dough,

And everything he's buying is away up in the air. 


Do you think what he's asking for is anything unfair?

He only asks for wages that enable him to share


A part of mortal pleasure, and that is only fair. 


It's a six-hour day, and Saturday stay at home and see 


The sunrise in the morning like God aimed for us to be.

So brother, when you're knocking on the man who digs the coal, 


Just stop, and think he's human, and he's got a heart and soul. 


And don't forget the millions of tons he loaded out, 


When the Kaiser tried to smear on us his lager beer and kraut.

You can tell your pals and neighbors, your servants and your wife, 


That the plaster of your office room cannot crush out your life. 


He's just a dirty miner, a sort of human mole,

Who takes these dangerous chances for a little lump of coal.

“Down on the Picket Line” 

Sarah Ogan Gunning, 1932

Come on, friends, an' let's go down,

Let's go down, let's go down,

Come on, friends, an' let's go down,

Down on the picket line.

As we went down on the picket line


To keep the scabs out of the mine,


Who's goin' to win the strike,


Come on an' we'll show you the way.

We went out one mornin' before daylight,


An' I was sure we'd have a fight,


But the scabs us carely [cowardly?] ran away,


We went back the very next day.

Come on, friends, an' let's go down,


Let's go down, let's go down,


Come on, friends, an' let's go down,


Down on the picket line.

As we went down on the picket line


To keep the scabs out of the mine,


Who's goin' to win the fight,


Come on an' we'll show you the way.

We all went out on the railroad track


To meet them scabs an' turn 'em back.


We went there strike, I'm glad to say,


Come on an' we'll show you the way.

“Eight Hours”

Rev. Jesse H. Jones and I.G. Blanchard, 1880s

We mean to make things over,

We are tired of toil for naught

With but bare enough to live upon

And ne'er an hour for thought.

We want to feel the sunshine

And we want to smell the flow'rs

We are sure that God has willed it

And we mean to have eight hours;

We're summoning our forces

From the shipyard, shop and mill

Eight hours for work, eight hours for rest

Eight hours for what we will;

Eight hours for work, eight hours for rest

Eight hours for what we will.

The beasts that graze the hillside,

And the birds that wander free,

In the life that God has meted,

Have a better life than we.

Oh, hands and hearts are weary,

And homes are heavy with dole;

If our life's to be filled with drudg'ry,

What need of a human soul.

Shout, shout the lusty rally,

From shipyard, shop, and mill.

Eight hours for work, eight hours for rest

Eight hours for what we will;

Eight hours for work, eight hours for rest

Eight hours for what we will.

The voice of God within us

Is calling us to stand

Erect as is becoming

To the work of His right hand.

Should he, to whom the Maker

His glorious image gave,

The meanest of His creatures crouch,

A bread-and-butter slave?

Let the shout ring down the valleys

And echo from every hill.

Ye deem they're feeble voices

That are raised in labor's cause,

But bethink ye of the torrent,

And the wild tornado's laws.

We say not toil's uprising

In terror's shape will come,

Yet the world were wise to listen

To the monetary hum.

Soon, soon the deep toned rally

Shall all the nations thrill.

Eight hours for work, eight hours for rest

Eight hours for what we will;

Eight hours for work, eight hours for rest

Eight hours for what we will.

From factories and workshops

In long and weary lines,

From all the sweltering forges,

And from out the sunless mines,

Wherever toil is wasting

The force of life to live

There the bent and battered armies

Come to claim what God doth give

And the blazon on the banner

Doth with hope the nation fill:

Eight hours for work, eight hours for rest

Eight hours for what we will;

Eight hours for work, eight hours for rest

Eight hours for what we will.

Hurrah, hurrah for labor,

For it shall arise in might

It has filled the world with plenty,

It shall fill the world with light

Hurrah, hurrah for labor,

It is mustering all its powers

And shall march along to victory

With the banner of Eight Hours.

Shout, shout the echoing rally

Till all the welkin thrill.

Eight hours for work, eight hours for rest

Eight hours for what we will;

Eight hours for work, eight hours for rest

Eight hours for what we will.

“Which Side Are You On?”  by Florence Reece

Come all of you good workers

Good news to you I’ll tell

Of how that good old union

Has come in here to dwell

Chorus

Which side are you on?

Which side are you on?

My Daddy was a miner

He’s now an errant son

Stick with him brother miners

Until this battle’s won

Chorus

They say in Harlan County

There are no neutrals there

You’ll either be a union man

Or a thug for J.H. Blair

Chorus

Don’t scab for the bosses

Don’t listen to their lies

Us poor folks haven’t got a chance

Unless we organize

Chorus

Oh workers can you stand it?

Oh tell me if you can

Will you be a lousy scab,

Or will you be a man?

Chorus

The bosses have divided us

Lied to us all along

The only way to beat them

Is one big union strong

Chorus

So shoulder to shoulder

In union we shall stand

We’ll beat the scabs and bosses

So come and lend a hand

Chorus

“The Hands That Built America” U2, 2002

Oh my love, it's a long way we've come

From the freckled hills, to the steel and glass canyons

From the stony fields, to hanging steel from the sky

From digging in our pockets for a reason not to say goodbye

These are the hands that built America

Oh, oh oh, America

Last saw your face in a watercolour sky

As sea birds argue, a long goodbye

I took your kiss, on the spray of the new land star

You gotta live with your dreams, don't make them so hard

And these are the hands, that built America

Ah, ah ah, America

Of all of the promises, is this one we could keep

Of all of the dreams, is this one still out of reach

Halle, ole

(Dream-oh-yeah)

(Oh oh-dream, oh love)

It's early fall, there's a cloud on the New York skyline

Innocence, dragged across a yellow line

These are the hands that built America

These are the hands that built America

Ah-ah-ah-ah-ah America

Diamond, Neil, “America” 1980

Far, we've been traveling far

Without a home, but not without a star

Free, only want to be free

We've huddled close to hang on to a dream

Everywhere around the world

They come into America

Every time that flag's unfurled

They come into America

Home, well it seems so far away

But we're traveling light today

In the eye of the storm

In the eye of the storm

Home, to a new and a shining place

Make our bed and we'll say our grace

Freedom's light burning warm

Freedom's light burning warm

On the boats and on the planes

They come into America

Never looking back again

They come into America

Got a dream to take them there

They come into America

Got a dream they've come to share

They come into America

They come into America

They come into America

They come into America

They come into America, today

Today

Today

Today

My country tis of thee (today)

Sweet land of liberty (today)

Of thee I sing (today)

Of thee I sing, today

Today (repeated to fade)

“Thousands Are Sailing to Amerikay” (c. 1870s)

You brave Irish people wherever you be,

I pray stand a moment and listen to me;

Your sons and fair daughters,

They are going away,

And thousands are sailing to Amerikay.

CHORUS:

So good luck to those people


And safe may they land.

They are leaving their country


For a far distant strand.

They are leaving old Ireland,

No longer can stay,

And thousands are sailing to Amerikay.

The night before leaving


They are bidding goodbye,

And it's early next morning


Their hearts give a sigh.

They do kiss their mothers,

And then they will say,

"Goodbye, dearest father,

I am now going away."

Their friends and relations,

And neighbours also,

When the trunks they are packed up


All ready to go,

The tears from their eyes then


Are falling like rain,

And the horses are prancing


Going off for the train.

When they do reach the station


You will hear their last cry,

With handkerchiefs waving


And bidding goodbye,


Their hearts will be breaking


When leaving the shore.

So goodbye, dear old Ireland,

We will ne'er see you no more.

So pity the mother


Who rears up the child

And likewise the father


Who labours and toils.

To try to support them


He works night and day,


And when they are reared


They will go away.

“A Ripping Trip” (tune of Pop Goes the Weasel)

You go aboard a leaky boat,

And sail for San Francisco;

You've got to pump to keep her afloat,

You have that, by jingo!

The engine soon begins to squeak,

But nary a thing to oil her;

Impossible to stop the leak -

Rip goes the boiler!

The captain on the promenade,

Looking very savage;

Steward and the cabin maid

Fighting 'bout a cabbage;

All about the cabin floor,

Passengers lie seasick;

Steamer's bound to go ashore --


Rip goes the physic!

Pork and beans they can't afford


To second cabin passengers;

The cook has tumbled overboard

With forty pounds of "sassengers";

The engineer, a little tight,

Bragging on the Main Line,

Finally gets into a fight –

Rip goes the engine!

Now cholera begins to rage,

A few have got the scurvy!

Chickens dying in their cage,

Steerage topsy-turvy.

When you get to Panama,

Greasers want a back-load;

Officers begin to chaw,

Rip goes the railroad!

When home, you'll tell an awful tale,

And always will be thinking

How long you had to pump and bail


To keep the tub from sinking.

Of course you'll take a glass of gin,

Twill make you feel so funny!

Some city sharp will rope you in,

Rip goes your money!

“Sacramento”

When formed our band,

We were all well manned

To journey afar to the promised land.

The golden ore is rich in store,

On the bands of the Sacramento.

CHORUS:

The Ho, boys, Ho, to Californy-o;

There's plenty of gold so I've been told,

On the banks of the Sacramento.

As oft we roam o'er the dark sea's foam

We'll never forget kind friends at home.

But memory kind still brings to mind,

The love of friends we left behind.

We'll expect our share of the coarsest fare,

And sometimes sleep in the open air,

On the cold damp grounds, we'll all sleep sound,

Except when the wolves go howlin' around.

As we explore to the distant shore,

Filling our pockets with the shining ore,

How it will sound as the shout goes 'round,

Filling our pockets with a dozen pounds.

The gold is there most anywhere, 


We dig it out rich with an iron bar,

But there it is thick, with spade or pick,

We take out chunks as big as a brick.

“The Sioux Indians”

I'll sing you a song, though it may be a sad one,

Of trials and troubles and where first begun;

I left my dear fam'ly, my friends and my home,

To cross the wide mountains and deserts to roam.

I crossed the Missouri and joined a large train,

Which bore us over mountains, through valley and plain;

And often of an evening a-huntin' we'd go


To shoot the fleet antelope and wild buffalo.

We heard of Sioux Indians all out on the plains,

A-killing poor drivers and burning their trains,

A-killing poor drivers with arrows and bows,

When captured by Indians no mercy they'd show.

We traveled three weeks till we come to the Platte,

A-pitching our tents at the head of the flat;

We spread down our blankets on the green shady ground


Where the mules and the horses were grazing around.

While taking refreshment, we heard a loud yell,

The whoops of Sioux Indians come up from the dell.

We sprang to our rifles with a flash in each eye,

And says our brave leader, "We'll fight till we die."

They made a bold dash and they come near our train


The arrows fell around us like showers of rain,

But with our long rifles we fed them hot lead


Till many a brave warrior around us lay dead.

We shot their bold chief at the head of their band,

He died like a warrior with his bow in his hand.

When they saw their brave chief lie dead in his gore,

They whooped and they yelled and we saw them no more.

In our little band there were just twenty-four,

And of the Sioux Indians five hundred or more;

We fought them with courage, we spoke not a word;

The whoop of Sioux Indians was all could be heard.

We hooked up our horses and started our train;

Three more bloody battles this trip on the plain.

And in our last battle three of our brave boys fell,

And we left them to rest in the green shady dell.

I.                     Farming

II.                   Progressivism

“Babies in the Mill”  Dorsey Dixon, 1962

I used to be a factory hand when things was moving slow,

When children worked in cotton mills, each morning had to go.

Every morning just at five the whistle blew on time

To call them babies out of bed at the age of eight and nine.

Come out of bed, little sleepy head,

And get you a bite to eat.

The factory whistle's calling you,

There's no more time to sleep.

To their jobs those little ones was strictly forced to go.

Those babies had to be on time through rain and sleet and snow.

Many times when things went wrong their bosses often frowned.

Many times those little ones was kicked and shoved around.

Those babies all grew up unlearned, they never went to school.


They never learned to read or write.

They learned to spin and spool.


Every time I close my eyes, I see that picture still


When textile work was carried on by babies in the mill.

“No Man’s Land”

Eric Bogle, 1976

Well, how'd you do, Private Willie McBride,

D'you mind if I sit down here by your graveside?

I'll rest for awhile in the warm summer sun,

Been walking all day, Lord, and I'm nearly done.

I see by your gravestone you were only nineteen

When you joined the glorious fallen in 1916,

I hope you died quick and I hope you died "clean,"

Or, Willie McBride, was it slow and obscene?

CHORUS:

Did they beat the drum slowly, did they sound the fife lowly?

Did the rifles fire o'er ye as they lowered ye down?

Did the bugles sing "The Last Post" in chorus?

Did the pipes play the "Floors O' The Forest"?

And did you leave a wife or a sweetheart behind

In some faithful heart is your memory enshrined?

And, though you died back in 1916,

To that loyal heart are you forever nineteen?

Or are you a stranger, without even a name,

Forever enshrined behind some glass pane,

In an old photograph, torn and tattered and stained,

And fading to yellow in a brown leather frame?

Well, the sun's shining down on these green fields of France;

The warm wind blows gently, the red poppies dance.

The trenches have vanished long under the plow;

No gas and no barbed wire, no guns firing now.

But here in this graveyard it's still No Man's Land;

The countless white crosses in mute witness stand


To man's blind indifference to his fellow man.

And a whole generation who were butchered and damned.

And I can't help but wonder now, Willie McBride,

Do all those who lie here know why they died?

Did you really believe them when they told you "the cause?"


Did you really believe that this war would end wars?

Well the suffering, the sorrow, the glory, the shame,

The killing, the dying, it was all done in vain,

For Willie McBride, it's all happened again,

And again, and again, and again, and again.

“Christians at War”

John F. Kendrick, 1916

Onward, Christian soldiers! Duty's way is plain;

Slay your Christian neighbors, or by them be slain,

Pulpiteers are spouting effervescent swill,

God above is calling you to rob and rape and kill,

All your acts are sanctified by the Lamb on high;

If you love the Holy Ghost, go murder, pray and die.

Onward, Christian soldiers! Rip and tear and smite!

Let the gentle Jesus bless your dynamite.

Splinter skulls with shrapnel, fertilize the sod;

Folks who do not speak your tongue deserve the curse of God.

Smash the doors of every home, pretty maidens seize;

Use your might and sacred right to treat them as you please.

Onward, Christian soldiers! Eat and drink your fill;

Rob with bloody fingers, Christ okays the bill,

Steal the farmers' savings, take their grain and meat;

Even though the children starve, the Savior's bums must eat,

Burn the peasants' cottages, orphans leave bereft;


In Jehovah's holy name, wreak ruin right and left.

Onward, Christian soldiers! Drench the land with gore;

Mercy is a weakness all the gods abhor.

Bayonet the babies, jab the mothers, too;

Hoist the cross of Calvary to hallow all you do.

File your bullets' noses flat, poison every well;

God decrees your enemies must all go plumb to hell.

Onward, Christian soldiers! Blight all that you meet;

Trample human freedom under pious feet.

Praise the Lord whose dollar sign dupes his favored race!

Make the foreign trash respect your bullion brand of grace.

Trust in mock salvation, serve as tyrant's tools;

History will say of you: "That pack of G.. d.. fools."

“There’s a Star-Spangled Banner Waving Somewhere”

Bob Miller/Paul Roberts, 1942

There's a Star-Spangled Banner waving somewhere

In a distant land so many miles away.

Only Uncle Sam's great heroes get to go there

Where I wish that I could also live some day.

I'd see Lincoln, Custer, Washington and Perry,

And Nathan Hale and Colin Kelly, too.

There's a Star-Spangled Banner waving somewhere,

Waving o'er the land of heroes brave and true.

In this war with its mad schemes of destruction

Of our country fair and our sweet liberty,

By the mad dictators, leaders of corruption,

Can't the U. S. use a mountain boy like me?

God gave me the right to be a free American,

And for that precious right I'd gladly die.

There's a Star-Spangled Banner waving somewhere,

That is where I want to live when I die.

Though I realize I'm crippled, that is true, sir,

Please don't judge my courage by my twisted leg.

Let me show my Uncle Sam what I can do, sir,

Let me help to bring the Axis down a peg.

If I do some great deed I will be a hero,

And a hero brave is what I want to be.

There's a Star-Spangled Banner waving somewhere,

In that heaven there should be a place for me.

“Ballad of October 16^th”

Millard Lampell, 1941

It was on a Saturday night and the moon was shining bright

They passed the conscription bill

And the people they did say for many miles away

'Twas the President and his boys on Capitol Hill.

CHORUS:

Oh, Franklin Roosevelt told the people how he felt

We damned near believed what he said

He said, "I hate war, and so does Eleanor

But we won't be safe 'till everybody's dead."

When my poor old mother died I was sitting by her side

A-promising to war I'd never go.

But now I'm wearing khaki jeans and eating army beans

And I'm told that J. P. Morgan loves me so,

I have wandered o'er this land, a roaming working man


No clothes to wear and not much food to eat.


But now the government foots the bill


Gives me clothes and feeds me swill

Gets me shot and puts me underground six feet.

CHORUS

Why nothing can be wrong if it makes our country strong


We got to get tough to save democracy.


And though it may mean war


We must defend Singapore


This don't hurt you half as much as it hurts me.

CHORUS

“Plow Under”

Lee Hays/Pete Seeger, 1941

Remember when the AAA

Killed a million hogs a day

Instead of hogs it's men today

Plow the fourth one under.

CHORUS:

Plow under, plow under

Plow under


Every fourth American boy.

They said our agricultural


System was about to fall


From Washington they sent a call


Plow the fourth one under.

CHORUS

The price of cotton wouldn't rise


They said, "We've got to fertilize"

So now on us they turn their eyes

Plow the fourth one under.

CHORUS

They said our system wouldn't work

Until we killed the surplus off


So now they look at us and say

Plow the fourth one under.

CHORUS

Any ignorant mule does know


Better than to step on a cotton row

But there ain't no mules in Congress, so


Plow the fourth one under.

CHORUS

Now the politicians rant


A boy's no better than a cotton plant


But we are here to say you can't


Plow the fourth one under.

FINAL CHORUS:

Plow under,
(Don't you...) Plow under
(Don't you...) Plow under

Every fourth American boy.

(Now, don't you...) Plow under,
(Don't you...) Plow under
(Don't you...) Plow under


Every fourth American boy.

“Brother Can You Spare A Dime?”

E.Y. Harburg/Jay Gorney, 1932

They used to tell me I was building a dream

And so I followed the mob.

When there was earth to plow or guns to bear,

I was always there, right on the job.

They used to tell me I was building a dream

With peace and glory ahead --

Why should I be standing in line, just waiting for bread?

Once I built a railroad, I made it run,

Made it race against time.

Once I built a railroad, now it's done --


Brother, can you spare a dime?

Once I built a tower, up to the sun,

brick and rivet and lime.


Once I built a tower, now it's done --


Brother, can you spare a dime?

Once in khaki suits, gee, we looked swell


Full of that Yankee Doodle-de-dum.

Half a million boots went slogging through hell,

And I was the kid with the drum.

Say, don't you remember they called me Al,

It was Al all the time.


Why don't you remember, I'm your pal --


Say, buddy, can you spare a dime?

Once in khaki suits, ah, gee, we looked swell

Full of that Yankee Doodle-de-dum.


Half a million boots went slogging through hell,

And I was the kid with the drum.

Say, don't you remember they called me Al,

It was Al all the time.

Why don't you remember, I'm your pal --


Buddy, can you spare a dime?

“Dust Bowl Refugee(s)” Woody Guthrie, 1938

I'm a dust bowl refugee,

Just a dust bowl refugee,

From that dust bowl to the peach bowl,

Now that peach fuzz is a-killin' me.

'Cross the mountains to the sea,

Come the wife and kids and me.

It's a hot old dusty highway


For a dust bowl refugee.

Hard, it's always been that way
,

Here today and on our way


Down that mountain, 'cross the desert,

Just a dust bowl refugee.

We are ramblers, so they say,

We are only here today,

Then we travel with the seasons,

We're the dust bowl refugees.

From the south land and the drought land,

Come the wife and kids and me,


And this old world is a hard world


For a dust bowl refugee.

Yes, we ramble and we roam


And the highway that's our home,

It's a never-ending highway


For a dust bowl refugee.

Yes, we wander and we work


In your crops and in your fruit,


Like the whirlwinds on the desert


That's the dust bowl refugees.

I'm a dust bowl refugee,

I'm a dust bowl refugee,

And I wonder will I always


Be a dust bowl refugee?

“I Ain’t Got No Home” Woody Guthrie, 1937

I ain't got no home, I'm just a-roamin' 'round,

Just a wandrin' worker, I go from town to town.

And the police make it hard wherever I may go

And I ain't got no home in this world anymore.

My brothers and my sisters are stranded on this road,

A hot and dusty road that a million feet have trod;

Rich man took my home and drove me from my door


And I ain't got no home in this world anymore.

Was a-farmin' on the shares, and always I was poor;

My crops I lay into the banker's store.

My wife took down and died upon the cabin floor,

And I ain't got no home in this world anymore.

Now as I look around, it's mighty plain to see

This world is such a great and a funny place to be;

Oh, the gamblin' man is rich an' the workin' man is poor,

And I ain't got no home in this world anymore.

Guthrie, Woody, “This Land Is Your Land”

This land is your land

This land is my land


From California to the New York island; 


From the red wood forest to the Gulf Stream waters 


This land was made for you and Me.

As I was walking that ribbon of highway, 


I saw above me that endless skyway: 


I saw below me that golden valley: 


This land was made for you and me.

I've roamed and rambled and I followed my footsteps 


To the sparkling sands of her diamond deserts; 


And all around me a voice was sounding: 


This land was made for you and me.

When the sun came shining, and I was strolling, 


And the wheat fields waving and the dust clouds rolling, 


As the fog was lifting a voice was chanting: 


This land was made for you and me.

As I went walking I saw a sign there 


And on the sign it said "No Trespassing." 


But on the other side it didn't say nothing, 


That side was made for you and me.

In the shadow of the steeple I saw my people, 


By the relief office I seen my people; 


As they stood there hungry, I stood there asking 


Is this land made for you and me?

Nobody living can ever stop me, 


As I go walking that freedom highway; 


Nobody living can ever make me turn back 


This land was made for you and me.

“People Get Ready” (1965) Curtis Mayfield/The Impressions

People get ready, there's a train comin'

You don't need no baggage, you just get on board

All you need is faith to hear the diesels hummin'

You don't need no ticket you just thank the lord

People get ready, there's a train to Jordan

Picking up passengers coast to coast

Faith is the key, open the doors and board them

There's hope for all among those loved the most

There ain't no room for the hopeless sinner whom would hurt all mankind

Just to save his own

Have pity on those whose chances grow thinner

For there is no hiding place against the kingdom's throne

People get ready there's a train comin'

You don't need no baggage, just get on board

All you need is faith to hear the diesels hummin'

You don't need no ticket, just thank the lord.

“Strange Fruit”

Southern trees bear a strange fruit,

Blood on the leaves and blood at the root,

Black body swinging in the Southern breeze,

Strange fruit hanging from the poplar trees.

Pastoral scene of the gallant South,

The bulging eyes and the twisted mouth,

Scent of magnolia sweet and fresh,

And the sudden smell of burning flesh!

Here is a fruit for the crows to pluck,

For the rain to gather; for the wind to suck,

For the sun to rot, for a tree to drop,

Here is a strange and bitter crop.

Dylan, Bob, “The Death of Emmett Till” (1962)

'Twas down in Mississippi not so long ago,

When a young boy from Chicago walked through a Southern door.

This boy's fateful tragedy you should all remember well,

The color of his skin was black and his name was Emmett Till.

Some men they dragged him to a barn and there they beat him up.

They said they had a reason, but I disremember what.

They tortured him and did some things too evil to repeat.

There was screamin' sounds inside the barn,

there was laughin' sounds out on the street.

Then they rolled his body down a gulf amidst a blood red rain


And they threw him in the waters wide to cease his screamin' pain.

The reason that they killed him there, and I'm sure it was no lie,

Was just for the fun of killing him and to watch him slowly die.

And then to stop the United States of yelling for a trial,

Two brothers they confessed that they had killed poor Emmett Till.

But on the jury there were men who helped the brothers commit this awful crime,

And so this trial was a mockery, but nobody seemed to mind.

I saw the mornin' papers but I could not bear

To see the smiling brothers walking down the courthouse stairs.

For the jury found them innocent and the brothers they went free,

While Emmett's body floats the foam of a Jim Crow southern sea.

If you can't speak out against this kind of thing, a crime that's so unjust,

Your eyes are filled with dead men's dirt, your mind is filled with dust.

Your arms and legs they must be in shackles and chains, and your blood it must refuse to flow,

For you'd let this human race fall down so God-awful low!

This song is just a reminder to remind your fellow man


That this kind of thing still lives today in that ghost-robed Ku Klux Klan.

But if all of us folks that thinks alike, if we give all we could give,

We'd make this great land of ours a greater place to live.

Dylan, Bob, “Hurricane” (1975)

Pistol shots ring out in the barroom night

Enter Patty Valentine from the upper hall.

She sees the bartender in a pool of blood,

Cries out, "My God, they killed them all!"

Here comes the story of the Hurricane,

The man the authorities came to blame

For somethin' that he never done.

Put in a prison cell, but one time he coulda been

The champion of the world.

Three bodies lyin' there does Patty see

And another man named Bello, movin' around mysteriously.

"I didn't do it," he says, and he throws up his hands

"I was only robbin' the register, I hope you understand.

I saw them leavin'," he says, and he stops

"One of us had better call up the cops."

And so Patty calls the cops

And they arrive on the scene with their red lights flashin'

In the hot New Jersey night.

Meanwhile, far away in another part of town

Rubin Carter and a couple of friends are drivin' around.

Number one contender for the middleweight crown

Had no idea what kinda shit was about to go down

When a cop pulled him over to the side of the road

Just like the time before and the time before that.

In Paterson that's just the way things go.

If you're black you might as well not show up on the street

'Less you wanna draw the heat.

Alfred Bello had a partner and he had a rap for the cops.

Him and Arthur Dexter Bradley were just out prowlin' around

He said, "I saw two men runnin' out, they looked like middleweights

They jumped into a white car with out-of-state plates."

And Miss Patty Valentine just nodded her head.

Cop said, "Wait a minute, boys, this one's not dead"

So they took him to the infirmary

And though this man could hardly see

They told him that he could identify the guilty men.

Four in the mornin' and they haul Rubin in,

Take him to the hospital and they bring him upstairs.

The wounded man looks up through his one dyin' eye

Says, "Wha'd you bring him in here for? He ain't the guy!"

Yes, here's the story of the Hurricane,

The man the authorities came to blame

For somethin' that he never done.

Put in a prison cell, but one time he coulda been

The champion of the world.

Four months later, the ghettos are in flame,

Rubin's in South America, fightin' for his name

While Arthur Dexter Bradley's still in the robbery game

And the cops are puttin' the screws to him, lookin' for somebody to blame.

"Remember that murder that happened in a bar?"

"Remember you said you saw the getaway car?"

"You think you'd like to play ball with the law?"

"Think it mighta been that fighter that you saw runnin' that night?"

"Don't forget that you are white."

Arthur Dexter Bradley said, "I'm really not sure."

Cops said, "A poor boy like you could use a break

We got you for the motel job and we're talkin' to your friend Bello

Now you don't wanta have to go back to jail, be a nice fellow.

You'll be doin' society a favor.

That sonofabitch is brave and gettin' braver.

We want to put his ass in stir

We want to pin this triple murder on him

He ain't no Gentleman Jim."

Rubin could take a man out with just one punch

But he never did like to talk about it all that much.

It's my work, he'd say, and I do it for pay

And when it's over I'd just as soon go on my way

Up to some paradise

Where the trout streams flow and the air is nice

And ride a horse along a trail.

But then they took him to the jailhouse

Where they try to turn a man into a mouse.

All of Rubin's cards were marked in advance

The trial was a pig-circus, he never had a chance.

The judge made Rubin's witnesses drunkards from the slums

To the white folks who watched he was a revolutionary bum

And to the black folks he was just a crazy nigger.

No one doubted that he pulled the trigger.

And though they could not produce the gun,

The D.A. said he was the one who did the deed

And the all-white jury agreed.

Rubin Carter was falsely tried.

The crime was murder "one," guess who testified?

Bello and Bradley and they both baldly lied

And the newspapers, they all went along for the ride.

How can the life of such a man

Be in the palm of some fool's hand?

To see him obviously framed

Couldn't help but make me feel ashamed to live in a land

Where justice is a game.

Now all the criminals in their coats and their ties

Are free to drink martinis and watch the sun rise

While Rubin sits like Buddha in a ten-foot cell

An innocent man in a living hell.

That's the story of the Hurricane,

But it won't be over till they clear his name

And give him back the time he's done.

Put in a prison cell, but one time he could- been

The champion of the world.

“Which Side Are You On?” by James Farmer

Down in Mississippi.  No neutrals have we met.  You either are a freedom fighter or a Tom for Ross Barnett.

Chorus

Everybody, which side are you on, boy?  Which side are you on?  Everybody, which side are you on, boy?  Which side are you on?

Don’t Tom for Mr. Charley, some Mississippi white folks lie.  ‘Cause we Black folks ain’t got a chance unless we all unite. Chorus.

Tell the [..] you can tell Chief Pritchett he hope he heard our plea.  Because the next time he put us in jail, he can throw away the key.  Chorus.

Have you heard about the paddy wagon, that Big Red likes to drive?  If you stand up for your rights, he’ll take you for a ride.  Chorus.

They say in Fulton County, no neutrals we have met.  You either be a freedom fighter or Tom for Mayor Allen.  Chorus.

Don’t Tom for Mr. Charley, don’t listen to his lies.  ‘Cause the colored folks ain’t got a chance, unless we all unite.

Oh tell me Mayor Allen, where is your heart?  We are all children of the Almighty God.  Chorus.

C’mon you Negro people, lift up your voices and sing.  Will you join the Ku Klux Klan or Martin Luther King?  Chorus.

“I Am Woman” (1972) Helen Reddy

I am woman, hear me roar

In numbers too big to ignore

And I know too much to go back and pretend

'Cus I've heard it all before

And I've been down there on the floor

No one's ever gonna keep me down again

Chorus:

Oh yes I am wise

But it's wisdom born of pain

Yes, I've paid the price

But look how much I gained

If I have to, I can do anything

I am strong (strong)

I am invincible (invincible)

I am woman

You can bend but never break me

'Cause it only serves to make me

More determined to achieve my final goal

And I come back even stronger

Not a novice any longer

'Cause you've deepened the conviction in my soul

Chorus

I am woman watch me grow

See me standing toe to toe

As I spread my lovin' arms across the land

But I'm still an embryo

With a long long way to go

Until I make my brother understand

Oh yes I am wise

But it's wisdom born of pain

Yes, I've paid the price

But look how much I gained

If I have to I can face anything

I am strong (strong)

I am invincible (invincible)

I am woman

Oh, I am woman

I am invincible

I am strong

(fade)

I am woman

I am invincible

I am strong

I am woman

“Talking Un-American Blues”

Irwin Silber/Betty Sanders, 1952

Early one morning got an invitation

To help Congress out in an investigation;

Man came around a-knocking at my door,

Give me a paper that said what for.

Subpoena, looking for Un-Americans;

Look in the mirror.

Now if you want an invite, here' s what to do,

You got to talk with peace, sing it too;

Visit your neighbors, hear what they say,

Before you know it, you're on your way.

Fare paid! Ride in style. First class!

Well, you brush your hair and you dress real pretty,

You got a date with the Un-American Committee;

Take the stand, they swear you in,

Old Man Wood is wearing a grin.

He thinks he's got you, got a short memory.

Can't recall what happened when they stuck a


Union label on his cantankerous investigation.

"Are you now, or have ever been,

Were you ever sympathetic or interested in...


When did you start, how long did it last,

Tell us all about your interesting past.

Answer yes or no."

"Did you go to a meeting, did you sign a petition,

Did you ever hold an executive position?


Did you make a speech, carry a card,


Did you ever hold a conference in your back yard?

"
Fifth Amendment!

Now they were asking questions, but we wouldn't buy it,

Like those union brothers did it, it was time for us to try it;

Added up the facts and the figures historical,

Asked them a question which sounds a bit rhetorical.

Mister Wood -- Are you now or have you ever been a bastard?

You don't have to answer that question if you think


It might tend to incriminate you.

Now Mister Wood, get out of your rut,

Do you swear to tell the truth and nothin' but?

Well, Wood said he would, but we knew he wouldn't


And even if he would, well he damn well couldn't,

But that's Congress for you,

Week in, week out, weak all over.

Now Wood couldn't rest on his laurels,

He tried his best to corrupt our morals;

He talked about Philbrick, Budenz too,

"They're getting theirs, how about you?"

Now I like chicken, I like duck


And I don't object to making a buck.

But I ain't got wings and sure can't fly,

But there's one bird that I won't buy:

That's Stoolpigeon! I'm strictly in the market for doves of peace!

It is known that birds of a feather


Have a habit of flockin' together.

So listen, McCarran, Wood and the rest,

You can't use us to feather your nest.

That's strictly for birds!

So here's the moral without a doubt,

If you want to be free, you've got to sing out.

Sing it loud, sing it strong,

People are singing a freedom song!

That's my music! Solid with a freedom beat!

So keep singing, and keep fighting!

“Julius and Ethel”

Bob Dylan, 1983

Now that they are gone, you know, the truth it can be told;

They were sacrificial lambs in the market place sold --

Julius and Ethel, Julius and Ethel.

Now that they are gone, you know, the truth it can come out; 


They were never proven guilty beyond a reasonable doubt --


Julius and Ethel, Julius and Ethel.

The people said they were guilty at the time; 


Some even said there hadn't a-been any crime --


Julius and Ethel, Julius and Ethel.

People look upon this couple with contempt and doubt, 


But they loved each other right up to the time they checked out --
Julius and Ethel, Julius and Ethel.

Eisenhower was president, Senator Joe was king; 


Long as you didn't say nothing you could say anything --


Julius and Ethel, Julius and Ethel.

Now some they blamed the system, some they blamed the man; 


Now that it is over, no one knows how it began --


Julius and Ethel, Julius and Ethel.

Every kingdom got to fall, even the Third Reich; 


Man can do what he pleases but not for as long as he like --


Julius and Ethel, Julius and Ethel.

Well, they say they gave the secrets of the atom bomb away;

Like no one else could think of it, it wouldn't be here today --


Julius and Ethel, Julius and Ethel.

Someone says the fifties was the age of great romance;

I say that's just a lie, it was when fear had you in a trance --


Julius and Ethel, Julius and Ethel.

“Suicide is Painless” Johnny Mandel, 1970

Through early morning fog I see

visions of the things to be

the pains that are withheld for me

I realize and I can see...

[Refrain]:

That suicide is painless

It brings on many changes

and I can take or leave it if I please.

I try to find a way to make

all our little joys relate

without that ever-present hate

but now I know that it's too late, and...

[Refrain]

The game of life is hard to play

I'm gonna lose it anyway

The losing card I'll someday lay

so this is all I have to say.

[Refrain]

The only way to win is cheat

And lay it down before I'm beat

and to another give my seat

for that's the only painless feat.

[Refrain]

The sword of time will pierce our skins

It doesn't hurt when it begins

But as it works its way on in

The pain grows stronger, watch it grin, but...

[Refrain]

A brave man once requested me

to answer questions that are key

"is it to be or not to be?"

and I replied "oh why ask me?"

'Cause suicide is painless

it brings on many changes

and I can take or leave it if I please.

...and you can do the same thing if you choose.

“Old Man Atom (Atomic Talking Blues)”

Vern Partlow, 1945

Well, I'm gonna preach you a sermon 'bout Old Man Atom,

I don't mean the Adam in the Bible datum.

I don't mean the Adam that Mother Eve mated,

I mean that thing that science liberated.

Einstein says he's scared,

And when Einstein's scared, I'm scared.

Hiroshima, Nagasaki, Alamogordo, Bikini...

Here's my moral, plain as day,

Old Man Atom is here to stay.

He's gonna hang around, it's plain to see,

But, ah, my dearly beloved, are we?

We hold these truths to be self-evident


All men may be cremated equal.

Hiroshima, Nagasaki -- here's my text


Hiroshima, Nagasaki -- Lordy, who'll be next.

The science guys, from every clime,

They all pitched in with overtime.

Before they knew it, the job was done;

They'd hitched up the power of the gosh-darn sun,

They put a harness on Old Sol,

Splittin' atoms, while the diplomats was splittin' hairs . . .

Hiroshima, Nagasaki -- what'll we do?

Hiroshima, Nagasaki -- they both went up the blue.

Then the cartel crowd put on a show


To turn back the clock on the UNO,

To get a corner on atoms and maybe extinguish


Every darned atom that can't speak English.

Down with foreign-born atoms!

Yes, Sir!

Hiroshima, Nagasaki...

But the atom's international, in spite of hysteria,

Flourishes in Utah, also Siberia.

And whether you're white, black, red or brown,

The question is this, when you boil it down:

To be or not to be! That is the question. . .


Atoms to atoms, and dust to dust,

If the world makes A-bombs, something's bound to bust.

Hiroshima, Nagasaki, Alamogordo, Bikini...

No, the answer to it all isn't military datum,

Like "Who gets there fustest with the mostest atoms,"

But the people of the world must decide their fate,

We got to stick together or disintegrate.

World peace and the atomic golden age or a push-button war,

Mass cooperation or mass annihilation,

Civilian international control of the atom – one world or none.

If you're gonna split atoms, well, you can't split ranks.

Hiroshima, Nagasaki...

It's up to the people, cause the atom don't care,

You can't fence him in, he's just like air.

He doesn't give a darn about politics


Or who got who into whatever fix --


All he wants to do is sit around and have his nucleus bombarded by neutrons.

Hiroshima, Nagasaki...

So if you're scared of the A-bomb, I'll tell you what to do:

You got to get with all the people in the world with you.

You got to get together and let out a yell,

Or the first thing you know we'll blow this world to...


Hiroshima, Nagasaki, Moscow, too,

New York, London, Timbuktu,

Shanghai, Paris, up the flue,

Hiroshima, Nagasaki...


We must choose between


The brotherhood of man or smithereens.

The people of the world must pick out a thesis:


"Peace in the world, or the world in pieces!"

Whoosh...

“New Year’s Day” 1983, U2

All is quiet on New Year's Day

A world in white gets underway

I want to be with you

Be with you night and day

Nothing changes on New Year's Day

On New Year's Day

I will be with you again

I will be with you again

Under a blood red sky

A crowd has gathered in black and white

Arms entwined, the chosen few

The newspapers says, says

Say it's true it's true...

And we can break through

Though torn in two

We can be one

I...I will begin again

I...I will begin again

Oh...

Maybe the time is right

Oh...maybe tonight...

I will be with you again

I will be with you again

And so we're told this is the golden age

And gold is the reason for the wars we wage

Though I want to be with you

Be with you night and day

Nothing changes

On New Year's Day

On New Year's Day

 “Eve of Destruction” (1965) P.F. Sloan (comp.)/Barry McGuire

The Eastern world, it is explodin',

Violence flarin', bullets loadin'.

You're old enough to kill, but not for votin',

You don't believe in war -- but what's that gun you're totin'?

An' even the Jordan river has bodies floatin'.

But you tell me, over and over and over again, my friend,

Ah, you don't believe we're on the eve of destruction.

Don't you understand what I'm tryin' to say,

An' can't you feel the fears I'm feelin' today?

If the button is pushed, there's no runnin' away,

There'll be no one to save, with the world in a grave.

Take a look around you, boy, it's bound to scare you, boy.

An' you tell me, over and over and over again, my friend,

Ah, you don't believe we're on the eve of destruction.

Yeah, my blood's so mad feels like coagulatin',

I'm sittin' here just contemplatin'.

I can't twist the truth, it knows no regulation,

Handful of senators don't pass legislation,

An' marches alone can't bring integration

When human respect is disintegratin',

This whole crazy world is just too frustratin'.

An' you tell me, over and over and over again, my friend,

Ah, you don't believe we're on the eve of destruction.

Think of all the hate there is in Red China,

Then take a look around to Selma, Alabama.

Ah, you may leave here for four days in space,

But when you return it's the same ol' place,

The poundin' of the drums, the pride an' disgrace.

You can bury your dead, but don't leave a trace.

Hate your next-door neighbor, but don't forget to say grace,

An' tell me, over and over and over again, my friend,

You don't believe we're on the eve of destruction,

No, no, you don't believe we're on the eve of destruction.

“Russians” (1985) Sting

In Europe and America,

There's a growing feeling of hysteria

Conditioned to respond to all the threats

In the rhetorical speeches of the Soviets

Mr. Krushchev said we will bury you

I don't subscribe to this point of view

It would be such an ignorant thing to do

If the Russians love their children too

How can I save my little boy

From Oppenheimer's deadly toy

There is no monopoly of common sense

On either side of the political fence

We share the same biology

Regardless of ideology

Believe me when I say to you

I hope the Russians love their children too

There is no historical precedent

To put words in the mouth of the president

There's no such thing as a winnable war

It's a lie we don't believe anymore

Mr. Reagan says we will protect you

I don't subscribe to this point of view

Believe me when I say to you

I hope the Russians love their children too

We share the same biology

Regardless of ideology

What might save us me and you

Is if the Russians love their children too

Dylan, Bob, “Masters of War” (1963)

Come you masters of war

You that build all the guns

You that build the death planes

You that build the big bombs

You that hide behind walls

You that hide behind desks

I just want you to know

I can see through your masks

You that never done nothin'

But build to destroy

You play with my world

Like it's your little toy

You put a gun in my hand

And you hide from my eyes

And you turn and run farther

When the fast bullets fly

Like Judas of old

You lie and deceive

A world war can be won

You want me to believe

But I see through your eyes

And I see through your brain

Like I see through the water

That runs down my drain

You fasten the triggers

For the others to fire

Then you set back and watch

When the death count gets higher

You hide in your mansion

As young people's blood

Flows out of their bodies

And is buried in the mud

You've thrown the worst fear

That can ever be hurled

Fear to bring children

Into the world

For threatening my baby

Unborn and unnamed

You ain't worth the blood

That runs in your veins

How much do I know

To talk out of turn

You might say that I'm young

You might say I'm unlearned

But there's one thing I know

Though I'm younger than you

Even Jesus would never

Forgive what you do

Let me ask you one question

Is your money that good

Will it buy you forgiveness

Do you think that it could

I think you will find

When your death takes its toll

All the money you made

Will never buy back your soul

And I hope that you die

And your death'll come soon

I will follow your casket

In the pale afternoon

And I'll watch while you're lowered

Down to your deathbed

And I'll stand o'er your grave

'Til I'm sure that you're dead

Dylan, Bob, “Blowin’ in the Wind” (1962)

How many roads must a man walk down

Before you call him a man?

Yes, 'n' how many seas must a white dove sail

Before she sleeps in the sand?

Yes, 'n' how many times must the cannon balls fly

Before they're forever banned?

The answer, my friend, is blowin' in the wind,

The answer is blowin' in the wind.

How many years can a mountain exist

Before it's washed to the sea?

Yes, 'n' how many years can some people exist

Before they're allowed to be free?

Yes, 'n' how many times can a man turn his head,

Pretending he just doesn't see?

The answer, my friend, is blowin' in the wind,

The answer is blowin' in the wind.

How many times must a man look up

Before he can see the sky?

Yes, 'n' how many ears must one man have

Before he can hear people cry?

Yes, 'n' how many deaths will it take till he knows

That too many people have died?

The answer, my friend, is blowin' in the wind,

The answer is blowin' in the wind.

Young, Neil, “Ohio” 1970

Tin soldiers and Nixon's coming

We're finally on our own

This summer I hear the drumming

Four dead in Ohio

Gotta get down to it soldiers are cutting us down

Should have been done long ago

What if you knew her and found her dead on the ground

How can you run when you know

“A Hard Rain’s A-Gonna Fall” (1963) Bob Dylan

Oh, where have you been, my blue-eyed son?

Oh, where have you been, my darling young one?

I've stumbled on the side of twelve misty mountains,

I've walked and I've crawled on six crooked highways,

I've stepped in the middle of seven sad forests,

I've been out in front of a dozen dead oceans,

I've been ten thousand miles in the mouth of a graveyard,

And it's a hard, and it's a hard, it's a hard, and it's a hard,

And it's a hard rain's a-gonna fall.

Oh, what did you see, my blue-eyed son?

Oh, what did you see, my darling young one?

I saw a newborn baby with wild wolves all around it

I saw a highway of diamonds with nobody on it,

I saw a black branch with blood that kept drippin',

I saw a room full of men with their hammers a-bleedin',

I saw a white ladder all covered with water,

I saw ten thousand talkers whose tongues were all broken,

I saw guns and sharp swords in the hands of young children,

And it's a hard, and it's a hard, it's a hard, it's a hard,

And it's a hard rain's a-gonna fall.

And what did you hear, my blue-eyed son?

And what did you hear, my darling young one?

I heard the sound of a thunder, it roared out a warnin',

Heard the roar of a wave that could drown the whole world,

Heard one hundred drummers whose hands were a-blazin',

Heard ten thousand whisperin' and nobody listenin',

Heard one person starve, I heard many people laughin',

Heard the song of a poet who died in the gutter,

Heard the sound of a clown who cried in the alley,

And it's a hard, and it's a hard, it's a hard, it's a hard,

And it's a hard rain's a-gonna fall.

Oh, who did you meet, my blue-eyed son?

Who did you meet, my darling young one?

I met a young child beside a dead pony,

I met a white man who walked a black dog,

I met a young woman whose body was burning,

I met a young girl, she gave me a rainbow,

I met one man who was wounded in love,

I met another man who was wounded with hatred,

And it's a hard, it's a hard, it's a hard, it's a hard,

It's a hard rain's a-gonna fall.

Oh, what'll you do now, my blue-eyed son?

Oh, what'll you do now, my darling young one?

I'm a-goin' back out 'fore the rain starts a-fallin',

I'll walk to the depths of the deepest black forest,

Where the people are many and their hands are all empty,

Where the pellets of poison are flooding their waters,

Where the home in the valley meets the damp dirty prison,

Where the executioner's face is always well hidden,

Where hunger is ugly, where souls are forgotten,

Where black is the color, where none is the number,

And I'll tell it and think it and speak it and breathe it,

And reflect it from the mountain so all souls can see it,

Then I'll stand on the ocean until I start sinkin',

But I'll know my song well before I start singin',

And it's a hard, it's a hard, it's a hard, it's a hard,

It's a hard rain's a-gonna fall.

“Rape of the World (1994) Tracy Chapman

Mother of us all

Place of our birth

How can we stand aside and watch the rape of the world

This is the beginning of the end

This the most heinous of crimes

This the deadliest of sins

The greatest violation of all time

Mother of us all

Place of our birth

We all are witness to the rape of the world

You’ve seen her stripped mined

You’ve heard of bombs exploded underground

You know the sun shines hotter than ever before

Mother of us all

Place of our birth

We all are witness to the rape of the world

Some claim to have crowned her a queen with cities of concrete and steel

But there is no glory no honor

In what results from the rape of the world

She has been clear-cut

She has been dumped on

She has been poisoned and beaten up

And we have been witness to the rape of the world

Mother of us all

Place of our birth

How can we stand aside and watch the rape of the world

If you look you’ll see it with your own eyes

If you listen you will hear her cries

If you care you will stand and testify

And stop the rape of the world

Stop the rape of the world

Mother of us all

Mother of us all

Mother of us all

Mother of us all…

“Big Yellow Taxi” (1970) Joni Mitchell

They paved paradise and put up a parking lot

With a pink hotel, a boutique, and a swinging hot spot

Don't it always seem to go

That you don't know what you've got till it's gone

They paved paradise and put up a parking lot

Shoo-bop-bop-bop-bop, shoo-bop-bop-bop

They took all the trees and put 'em in a tree museum

And they charged the people a dollar and a half just to see 'em

Don't it always seem to go

That you don't know what you've got till it's gone

They paved paradise and put up a parking lot

Shoo-bop-bop-bop-bop, shoo-bop-bop-bop

Hey farmer, farmer, put away that DDT, now

Give me spots on my apples but leave me the birds and the bees, please

Don't it always seem to go

That you don't know what you've got till it's gone

They paved paradise and put up a parking lot

I say, they paved paradise and they put up a parking lot

Don't it always seem to go

That you don't know what you've got till it's gone

They paved paradise and put up a parking lot

Shoo-bop-bop-bop-bop

Late last night I heard the screen door slam

And a big yellow taxi took away my old man

Don't it always seem to go

That you don't know what you've got till it's gone

They paved paradise and they put up a parking lot

Shoo-bop-bop-bop-bop

Don't it always seem to go

That you don't know what you've got till it's gone

They paved paradise and put up a parking lot

Shoo-bop-bop-bop-bop

Oh, now, they paved paradise and they put up a parking lot

Shoo-bop-bop-bop-bop

“Mercedes Benz” (1971) Janis Joplin

Oh Lord, won't you buy me a Mercedes Benz?

My friends all drive Porsches, I must make amends.

Worked hard all my lifetime, no help from my friends,

So Lord, won't you buy me a Mercedes Benz?

Oh Lord, won't you buy me a color TV ?

Dialing For Dollars is trying to find me.

I wait for delivery each day until three,

So oh Lord, won't you buy me a color TV?

Oh Lord, won't you buy me a night on the town?

I'm counting on you, Lord, please don't let me down.

Prove that you love me and buy the next round,

Oh Lord, won't you buy me a night on the town?

Everybody!

Oh Lord, won't you buy me a Mercedes Benz?

My friends all drive Porsches, I must make amends,

Worked hard all my lifetime, no help from my friends,

So oh Lord, won't you buy me a Mercedes Benz?

“In America” 1980, The Charlie Daniels Band

Well the eagle's been flying slow,

and the flag's been flying low,

and a lot of people's saying that America's fixing to fall.

But speaking just for me

and some people from Tennessee,

we got a thing or two to tell you all.

This lady may have stumbled

but she ain't never fell.

And if the Russians don't believe that

they can all go straight to hell.

We're gonna put her feet back on the path

of the righteousness and then

God bless America again.

And you never did think that it ever would happen again

In America, did you?

You never did think that we'd ever get together again.

Well we damn sure fooled you.

We're walking real proud and we're talking real loud again

in America.

You never did think that it ever would happen again.

From the sound up in Long Island

out to San Francisco Bay,

and ev'ry thing that's in between them is our home.

And we may have done a little bit of fighting amongst ourselves,

but you outside people best leave us alone.

Cause we'll all stick together

and you can take that to the bank.

That's the cowboys and the hippies

and the rebels and the yanks.

You just go and lay your hand

on a Pittsburgh Steelers fan

and I think you're gonna finally understand.

And you never did think that it ever would happen again

In America, did you?

You never did think that we'd ever get together again.

Well we damn sure fooled you.

We're walking real proud and we're talking real loud again

in America.

You never did think that it ever would happen again.

“Gods of War” Def Leppard, 1987

Feelin like it's all over

Feelin' like there's no love

Feelin' like it's not easy

Breathin' life in the dust

On a countdown to zero

Take a ride on the nightmare machine

There ain't gonna be heroes

There ain't gonna be anything

Here it comes, here comes the night

Here it comes, hell in the night

Here it comes, here comes the night

When we all fall down

When we walk into the silence

When we shadow the sun

When we surrender to violence

Then the damage is done

Put away that gun

I don't wanna be there

I don't wanna be anywhere

Here it comes, here comes the night

Here it comes, hell in the night

Here it comes, here comes the night

That's right

We're fightin' for the gods of war

But what the hell we fightin' for

We're fightin with the gods of war

But I'm a rebel

And I ain't gonna fight no more

No way

On a countdown to zero

Take a ride on the nightmare machine

There ain't gonna be heroes

There ain't gonna be anything

Here it comes, here comes the night

Here it comes, hell in the night

Here it comes, here comes the night

Don't ya know that's right

We're fightin' for the gods of war

But what the hell we fightin' for

We're fightin with the gods of war

And I ain't gonna fight no more

Stop fightin' for the gods of war

Yeah what the hell we fightin' for

What the hell we fightin' for

We're fightin' with the gods of war

Heavy

“Allentown” (1982) Billy Joel

Well, we're living here in Allentown

And they're closing all the factories down

Out in Bethlehem they're killing time

Filling out forms

Standing in line

Well, our fathers fought the second World War

Spent their weekends on the Jersey shore

Met our mothers in the USO

Asked them to dance

Danced with them slow

And we're living here in Allentown

But the restlessness was handed down

And it's getting very hard to stay

Well we're waiting here in Allentown

For the Pennsylvania we never found

For the promises our teachers gave

If we worked hard

If we behaved

So the graduations hang on the wall

But they never really helped us at all

No they never taught us what was real

Iron and coal

Chromium Steel

And we're waiting here in Allentown

But they've taken all the coal from the ground

And the union people crawled away

Every child had a pretty good shot

To get at least as far as their old man got

But something happened on the way to that place

They threw an American flag in our face

Well, I'm living here in Allentown

And it's hard to keep a good man down

But I won't be getting up today

And it's getting very hard to stay

And we're living here in Allentown.

Amy Thompson Reflective Piece in Word

 

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