Protest Lyrics: An Anthology
(This material is still under construction; performers are mentioned, but song writers are not all named. Also: I
don’t recommend all of these as good protest poems in themselves; most only work well with the music.)
Strange Fruit
--Billie Holiday and Abel Meeropol (1937)
Southern trees bear strange fruit,
Blood on the leaves and blood at the root,
Black bodies 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 magnolias, sweet and fresh,
Then the sudden smell of burning flesh.
Here is fruit for the crows to pluck,
For the rain to gather, for the wind to suck,
For the sun to rot, for the trees to drop,
Here is a strange and bitter crop.
TOM JOAD
--Woody Guthrie
Tom Joad got out of the old McAlester Pen.
There he got his parole.
After four long years on a man killing charge.
Tom Joad come a walking down the road, poor boy
Tom Joad come a walking down the road
Tom Joad he met a truck driving man.
There he caught him a ride.
He said: "I just got loose from McAlester's Pen
On a charge called Homicide,
A charge called Homicide."
That truck rolled away in a cloud of dust.
Tommy turned his face toward home.
He met Preacher Casey and they had a little drink,
But they found that his family they was gone.
He found that his family they was gone.
He found his mother's old fashion shoe.
Found his daddy's hat.
And he found little Muley and Muley said:
"They've been tractored out by the cats,
They've been tractored out by the cats."
Tom Joad walked down to the neighbor's farm.
Found his family.
They took Preacher Casey and loaded in a car,
And his mother said, "We got to git away."
His mother said 'We got to get away."
Now the twelve of the Joads made a mighty heavy load,
But Grandpa Joad did cry.
He picked up a handful of land in his hand,
Said, "I'm stayin' with the farm till I die.
Yes, I'm stayin' with my farm till I die."
They fed him short ribs and coffee and soothing syrup,
And Grandpa Joad did die.
They buried Grandpa Joad by the side of the road,
Buried Grandma on the California side.
They buried Grandma on the California side.
They stood on a mountain and they looked to the West
And it looked like the promised land,
That bright green valley with a river running through.
There was work for every single hand, they thought.
There was work for every single hand.
The Joads rolled away to Jungle Camp.
There they cooked a stew.
And the hungry little kids of the Jungle Camp said,
"We'd like to have some too."
Said, "We'd like to have some too."
Now a Deputy Sheriff fired loose at a man.
Shot a woman in the back.
Before he could take his aim again,
Preacher Casey dropped him in his track.
Preacher Casey dropped him in his track.
They handcuffed Casey and they took him to Jail,
And then he got away.
And he met Tom Joad on the old river bridge,
And these few words he did say, poor boy.
These few words he did say.
"I preached for the Lord a mighty long time.
Preached about the rich and the poor.
Us workin' folks got to all get together,
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Cause we ain't got a chance anymore.
We ain't got a chance anymore."
The Deputies come and Tom and Casey run
To the bridge where the water run down.
But the vigilantes they hit Casey with a club.
They laid Preacher Casey on the ground.
They laid Preacher Casey on the ground.
Tom Joad he grabbed that deputy's club,
Hit him over the head.
Tom Joad took flight in the dark rainy night.
A deputy and a preacher lying dead, two men.
A deputy and a preacher lying dead.
Tom run back where his mother was asleep.
He woke her up out of bed.
Then he kissed goodbye to the mother that he loved.
Said what Preacher Casey said, Tom Joad.
He said what Preacher Casey said.
"Ever'body might be just one big soul.
Well it looks that a way to me.
Everywhere that you look in the day or night,
That's where I'm gonna be, Ma.
That's where I'm gonna be.
Wherever little children are hungry and cry
Wherever people ain't free.
Wherever men are fightin' for their rights,
That's where I'm gonna be, Ma.
That's where I'm a gonna be."
DEPORTEES
--Woody Guthrie
The crops are all in and the peaches are rotting.
The oranges are filed in their creosote dumps.
They're flying 'em back to the Mexico border
To take all their money to wade back again
Goodbye to my Juan, farewell Roselita
Adios mis amigos, Jesus y Maria.
You won't have a name when you ride the big airplane
All they will call you deportees
My father's own father, he waded that river.
They took all the money he made in his life.
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It's six hundred miles to the Mexico border,
And they chased them like rustlers, like outlaws, like thieves.
The skyplane caught fire over Los Gatos Canyon.
The great ball of fire it shook all our hills.
Who are these dear friends who are falling like dry leaves?
Radio said, "They are just deportees."
Is this the best way we can grow our big orchards?
Is this the best way we can raise our good crops?
To fall like dry leaves and rot on out topsoil,
And be known by no names except "deportees"
THIS LAND IS YOUR LAND
--Woody Guthrie
This land is your land, this land is my land
From California to the New York Island,
From the redwood forest to the gulf stream water,
This land was made for you and me.
As I went 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 roamed and I rambled and I followed my footsteps
O'er the sparkling sands of her diamond deserts,
While all around me a voice was sounding, saying
In the squares of the city, in the shadow of the steeple
In the relief office, I seen my people;
As they stood there hungry I stood there asking,
—Is this land made for you and me?
As I went walking, I saw a sign there;
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!
If I Had a Hammer
--Peter, Paul, and Mary
If I had a hammer, I'd hammer in the morning.
I'd hammer in the evening, all over this land.
I'd hammer out danger, I'd hammer out a warning,
I'd hammer out love between my brothers and my sisters,
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all over this land.
If I had a bell, I'd ring it in the morning,
I'd ring it in the evening, all over this land.
I'd ring out danger, I'd ring out a warning,
I'd ring out love between my brothers and my sisters,
all over this land.
If I had a song, I'd sing it in the morning,
I'd sing it in the evening, all over this land.
I'd sing out danger, I'd sing out a warning.
I'd sing out love between my brothers and my sisters,
all over this land.
Well I got a hammer, and I got a bell,
and I got a song to sing, all over this land.
It's the hammer of Justice, it's the bell of Freedom,
it's the song about Love between my brothers and my sisters,
all over this land.
It's the hammer of Justice, it's the bell of Freedom,
it's the song about Love between my brothers and my sisters,
all over this land.
Little Boxes
--Malvina Reynolds
Little boxes on the hillside,
Little boxes made of ticky-tacky,
Little boxes, little boxes,
Little boxes, all the same.
There's a green one and a pink one
And a blue one and a yellow one
And they're all made out of ticky-tacky
And they all look just the same.
And the people in the houses
All go to the university,
And they all get put in boxes,
Little boxes, all the same.
And there's doctors and there's lawyers
And business executives,
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And they're all made out of ticky-tacky
And they all look just the same.
And they all play on the golf-course,
And drink their Martini dry,
And they all have pretty children,
And the children go to school.
And the children go to summer camp
And then to the university,
And they all get put in boxes
And they all come out the same.
And the boys go into business,
And marry, and raise a family,
And they all get put in boxes,
Little boxes, all the same.
There's a green one and a pink one
And a blue one and a yellow one
And they're all made out of ticky-tacky
And they all look just the same.
WHERE HAVE ALL THE FLOWERS GONE
--Pete Seeger
Where have all the flowers gone?
Long time passing
Where have all the flowers gone?
Long time ago
Where have all the flowers gone?
Girls have picked them every one
When will they ever learn?
When will they ever learn?
Where have all the young girls gone?
Long time passing
Where have all the young girls gone?
Long time ago
Where have all the young girls gone?
Taken husbands every one
When will they ever learn?
When will they ever learn?
Where have all the young men gone?
Long time passing
Where have all the young men gone?
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Long time ago
Where have all the young men gone?
Gone for soldiers every one
When will they ever learn?
When will they ever learn?
Where have all the soldiers gone?
Long time passing
Where have all the soldiers gone?
Long time ago
Where have all the soldiers gone?
Gone to graveyards every one
When will they ever learn?
When will they ever learn?
Where have all the graveyards gone?
Long time passing
Where have all the graveyards gone?
Long time ago
Where have all the graveyards gone?
Covered with flowers every one
When will we ever learn?
When will we ever learn?
See all early Dylan lyrics :
http://www.ndsu.edu/instruct/cinichol/PoetryofRock/DylanLyrics.htm
Masters Of War
--Bob Dylan (I’m actually including this as a example of what NOT to do )
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
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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
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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
A Most Peculiar Man
--Paul Simon
He was a most peculiar man.
That's what Mrs. Riordan said and she should know;
She lived upstairs from him.
She said he was a most peculiar man.
He was a most peculiar man.
He lived all alone within a house,
Within a room, within himself,
A most peculiar man.
He had no friends, he seldom spoke
And no one in turn ever spoke to him,
'Cause he wasn't friendly and he didn't care
And he wasn't like them.
Oh, no! he was a most peculiar man.
He died last Saturday.
He turned on the gas and he went to sleep
With the windows closed so he'd never wake up
To his silent world and his tiny room;
And Mrs. Riordan says he has a brother somewhere
Who should be notified soon.
And all the people said, “What a shame that he's dead,
But wasn't he a most peculiar man?”
Sounds of Silence
--Paul Simon
Hello darkness, my old friend,
I've come to talk with you again
Because a vision softly creeping
Left its seeds while I was sleeping.
And the vision that was planted in my brain
Still remains
Within the sound of silence.
In restless dreams I walked alone
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Narrow streets of cobblestone,
'Neath the halo of a street lamp
I turned my collar to the cold and damp
When my eyes were stabbed by the flash of a neon light
That split the night
And touched the sound of silence.
And in the naked light I saw
Ten thousand people, maybe more
People talking without speaking,
People hearing without listening,
People writing songs that voices never share,
And no one dared
Disturb the sound of silence.
"Fools", said I, "You do not know
Silence like a cancer grows.
Hear my words that I might teach you;
Take my arms that I might reach you."
But my words, like silent raindrops fell
And echoed
In the wells of silence.
And the people bowed and prayed
To the neon god they made.
And the sign flashed out its warning
In the words that it was forming.
And the sign said, "The words of the prophets
are written on the subway walls and tenement halls."
And whispered in the sounds of silence.
Fortunate Son
--Credence Clearwater Revival (Tom Fogarty)
Some folks are born made to wave the flag,
Ooh, they’re red, white and blue.
And when the band plays Hail to the Chief,
Ooh, they point the cannon at you.
It ain’t me, it ain’t me, I ain’t no senator’s son.
It ain’t me, it ain’t me; I ain’t no fortunate one.
Some folks are born silver spoon in hand,
Lord, don’t they help themselves.
But when the taxman comes to the door, Lord,
the house looks like a rummage sale.
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It ain’t me, it ain’t me, I ain’t no millionaire’s son, no.
It ain’t me, it ain’t me; I ain’t no fortunate one.
Some folks inherit star spangled eyes,
Ooh, they send you down to war, Lord.
And when you ask them, how much should we give?
they only answer more! more! more!
It ain’t me, it ain’t me, I ain’t no military son, son.
It ain’t me, it ain’t me; I ain’t no fortunate one, one.
For What It’s Worth
--Buffalo SpringfieLd
There's something happening here.
What it is ain't exactly clear.
There's a man with a gun over there
Telling me I got to beware.
I think it's time we stop, children, what's that sound?
Everybody look what's going down.
There's battle lines being drawn.
Nobody's right if everybody's wrong.
Young people speaking their minds,
Getting so much resistance from behind.
I think it's time we stop, hey, what's that sound?
Everybody look what's going down.
What a field-day for the heat;
A thousand people in the street
Singing songs and carrying signs,
Mostly say, hooray for our side.
It's time we stop, hey, what's that sound?
Everybody look what's going down.
Paranoia strikes deep;
Into your life it will creep.
It starts when you're always afraid;
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You step out of line, the man come and take you away.
We better stop, hey, what's that sound?
Everybody look what's going down.
See all early Rolling Stones lyrics:
http://www.ndsu.edu/instruct/cinichol/PoetryofRock/StonesLyrics.htm
Ohio
--Neil Young
Tin soldiers and Nixon 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?
Tin soldiers and Nixon coming;
We're finally on our own.
This summer I hear the drumming—
Four dead in Ohio.
Four dead in Ohio.
Four dead in Ohio.
Four dead in Ohio.
Four dead in Ohio.
War
--Edwin Star
What is it good for?
Absolutely nothing.
War; what is it good for?
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Absolutely nothing.
Oh war, I despise
Because it means destruction
Of innocent lives.
War means tears
To thousands of mother’s eyes
When their sons go to fight
And lose their lives.
I said, war, huh,
Good God, y'all,
What is it good for?
Absolutely nothing.
Say it again.
War, whoa, Lord.
What is it good for?
Absolutely nothing.
Listen
to me.
War, it ain't nothing
But a heartbreaker,
friend only to the undertaker.
Oh, war.
It's an enemy to all mankind.
The point of war blows my mind.
War has caused unrest
Within the younger generation,
Induction then destruction—
Who wants to die?
Ah, war. Good God y'all.
What is it good for?
Absolutely nothing.
War, it ain't nothing but a heartbreaker.
War, it's got one friend—
That's
the undertaker.
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Oh, war has shattered
Many a young man’s dreams,
Made him disabled, bitter and mean.
Life is much too short and precious
To spend fighting wars these days.
War can't give life;
it can only take it away
War, it ain't nothing but a heartbreaker.
War, friend only to
the undertaker.
Peace, love and understanding:
Tell me, is there no place for them today?
They say we must fight to keep our freedom,
But Lord knows there's got to be a better way.
War, huh.
Good God y'all.
What is it good for?
Stand up and shout it:
Nothing!
Kinky Sex Makes the World Go Round
--Dead Kennedys
Greetings: this is the Secretary of War at the State Department of the United States.
We have a problem.
The companies want something done about this sluggish
world economic situation.
Profits have been running a little thin lately,
and we need to stimulate some growth.
Now we know
there's an alarmingly high number of young people
roaming around in your country with nothing to do but stir up trouble
for the police and damage private property.
It doesn't look like they'll ever get a job.
It's about time we did something constructive with these people.
We've got thousands of 'em here too. They're crawling all over.
The companies think it's time we all sit down, have a serious get-together,
And start another war
The President? He loves the idea!
All those missiles streaming overhead to and fro,
napalm, people running down the road, skin on fire.
The Soviets seem up for it;
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the Kremlin's been itching for the real thing for years.
Hell, Afghanistan's no fun.
So whadya say?
We don't even have to win this war.
We just want to cut down on some of this excess population.
Now look. Just start up a draft; draft as many of those people as you can.
We'll call up every last youngster we can get our hands on,
hand 'em some speed, give 'em an hour or two to learn how to use
an automatic rifle and send 'em on their way.
Libya? El Salvador? How 'bout Northern Ireland?
Or a "moderately repressive regime" in South America?
We'll just cook up a good Soviet threat story
in the Middle East—we need that oil!
We had Libya all ready to go and Colonel Khadafy's hit squad
didn't even show up. I tell ya,
that man is unreliable.
The Kremlin had their fingers on the button just like we did for that one.
Now just think for a minute: we can make this war so big—SO big,
the more people we kill in this war, the more the economy will prosper.
We can get rid of practically everybody on your dole queue if we plan this right.
Take every loafer on welfare right off our computer rolls.
Now don't worry about demonstrations; just pump up your drug supply.
So many people have hooked themselves on heroin
and amphetamines since we took over, it's just like Vietnam.
We had everybody so busy with LSD they never got too strong.
Kept the war functioning just fine
It's easy.
We've got our college kids so interested in beer,
they don't even care if we start manufacturing germ bombs again.
Put a nuclear stockpile in their back yard,
they wouldn't even know what it looked like.
So how 'bout it? Look—war is money.
The arms manufacturers tell me
unless we get our bomb factories up to full production
the whole economy is going to collapse.
The Soviets are in the same boat.
We all agree the time has come for the big one. So whadya say?!?
That's excellent. We knew you'd agree
The companies will be very pleased.
London Calling
--The Clash
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London calling to the faraway towns
Now war is declared, and battle come down
London calling to the underworld
Come out of the cupboard, you boys and girls
London calling, now don't look to us
Phoney Beatlemania has bitten the dust
London calling, see we ain't got no swing
'Cept for the ring of that truncheon thing
The ice age is coming, the sun's zooming in
Meltdown expected, the wheat is growing thin
Engines stop running, but I have no fear
'Cause London is drowning, and I live by the river
London calling to the imitation zone
Forget it, brother, you can go it alone
London calling to the zombies of death
Quit holding out, and draw another breath
London calling, and I don't wanna shout
But while we were talking, I saw you nodding out
London calling, see we ain't got no high
Except for that one with the yellowy eyes
The ice age is coming, the sun's zooming in
Engines stop running, the wheat is growing thin
A nuclear error, but I have no fear
'Cause London is drowning, and I live by the river
London calling, yes, I was there, too
An' you know what they said? Well, some of it was true!
London calling at the top of the dial
After all this, won't you give me a smile?
London calling
I never felt so much alike, alike, alike.
Kodachrome
--Paul Simon
When I think back
On all the crap I learned in high school,
It’s a wonder I can think at all.
And though my lack of education
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Hasn’t hurt me none,
I can read the writing on the wall.
Kodachrome—
They give us those nice bright colors,
They give us the greens of summers,
Makes you think all the worlds a sunny day.
I got a Nikon camera.
I love to take a photograph.
So mama don’t take my Kodachrome away.
If you took all the girls I knew when I was single
And brought them all together for one night,
I know they’d never match my sweet imagination,
And everything looks worse in black and white.
This Note's For You
--Neil Young
Don't want no cash.
Don't need no money.
Ain't got no stash.
This note's for you.
Ain't singin' for Pepsi.
Ain't singin' for Coke.
I don't sing for nobody;
Makes me look like a joke.
This note's for you.
Ain't singin' for Miller.
Don't sing for Bud.
I won't sing for politicians.
Ain't singin' for Spuds.
This note's for you.
Don't need no cash.
Don't want no money.
Ain't got no stash.
This note's for you.
I've got the real thing.
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I got the real thing, baby.
I got the real thing.
Sunday Bloody Sunday
--U2
I can’t believe the news today.
I can’t close my eyes and make it go away.
How long must we sing this song?
Cause tonight we can be as one.
Broken bottles under children’s feet;
Bodies strewn across the dead end street.
But I won’t heed the battle call.
It puts my back up,
Puts my back up against the wall.
Sunday, bloody Sunday.
And the battle’s just begun.
There’s many lost, but tell me who has won.
The trench is dug within our hearts,
And mothers, children, brothers, sisters torn apart.
How long? How long must we sing this song?
Wipe the tears from your eyes.
Wipe your tears away.
I wipe your blood shot eyes.
Sunday, bloody Sunday.
And it’s true we are immune
When fact is fiction and TV reality.
And today the millions cry.
We eat and drink while tomorrow they die.
The real battle yet begun—
To claim the victory jesus won.
Sunday, bloody Sunday.
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Fight For Your Right
--Beastie Boys (I kind of included this one for giggles)
You wake up late for school— man, you don't wanna go.
You ask you mom, "Please?" but she still says, "No!"
You missed two classes and no homework,
But your teacher preaches class like you're some kind of jerk.
You gotta fight for your right to party.
You pops caught you smoking and he said, "No way!"
That hypocrite smokes two packs a day.
Man, living at home is such a drag,
Now your mom threw away your best porno mag (Busted!)
Don't step out of this house if that's the clothes you're gonna wear.
I'll kick you out of my home if you don't cut that hair.
Your mom busted in and said, "What's that noise?"
Aw, mom you're just jealous; it's the Beastie Boys!
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