470 likes | 902 Views
“Protest Songs”. Pete Seeger's assertion that, 'The right song at the right time can change history'. Essential Questions. What impact do songs have on social movements? What is the historical context in which these songs are written and performed? What makes a song effective in a cause?.
E N D
“Protest Songs” Pete Seeger's assertion that, 'The right song at the right time can change history'
Essential Questions • What impact do songs have on social movements? • What is the historical context in which these songs are written and performed? • What makes a song effective in a cause?
Role of Music • Music has been used to lift the spirits of poor, oppressed and rebels. • Music has been used to communicate the ideas of change and protest. • From different historical eras from slavery, The Great Depression, Civil Rights Movement and Vietnam, individuals have shared their opinions of injustice.
Joe Hill, American Songwriter His music was a uniting force that captured the spirit of the radical Industrial Workers of the World (I.W.W.) labor movement. He would influence the likes of Woody Guthrie ad John Lennon. He was executed on November 19, 1915 for killing two people in Utah.
Joe Hill’s words • He stated: “A pamphlet, no matter how good, is never read more than once. But a song is learned by heart and repeated over and over.” • “And I maintain that if a person can put a few common sense facts into a song and dress them up in a cloak of humor, he will succeed in reaching a great number of workers who are too unintelligent or too indifferent to read.”
"Workers of the World" by Joe Hill "Workers of the world awaken. Break your chains, demand your rights. All the wealth you make is taken, by exploiting parasites. Shall you kneel in deep submission from your cradle to your grave. Is the height of your ambition to be a good and willing slave?"
“The preacher and the slaves” by 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 eatThey will answer with voices so sweet:Main 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.And the starvation army they play,And they sing and they clap and they pray.Till they get all your coin on the drum,Then they tell you when you are on the bum: 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. If you fight hard for children and wifeTry to get something good in this lifeYou're a sinner and bad man, they tell,When you die you will sure go to hell. 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.Workingmen of all countries unite,Side by side we for freedom will fight;When the world and its wealth we have gainedTo the grafters we'll sing this refrain:You will eat, bye and bye,When you've learned how to cook and to fryChop some wood, 'twill do you goodAnd you'll eat in the sweet bye and bye.
Woody Guthrie • Woody was constantly moving around the country and he began to attract followers. • While in New York, he recorded Dust Bowl Ballads. • He wrote about different causes such as Sacco & Vanzetti.
“What Are We Waiting On?” by Woody Guthrie There's a great and a bloody fight 'round this whole world tonight And the battle, the bombs and shrapnel reign Hitler told the world around he would tear our union down But our union's gonna break them slavery chains Our union's gonna break them slavery chains I walked up on a mountain in the middle of the sky Could see every farm and every town I could see all the people in this whole wide world That's the union that'll tear old Hitler downThat's the union that'll tear the fascists down When I think of the men and the ships going down While the Russians fight on across the dawn There's London in ruins and Paris in chains Good people, what are we waiting on? Good people, what are we waiting on? Yes, I thank the Soviets and the mighty Chinese vets Allies the whole wide world around To the battling British, thanks, you can have ten million Yanks If it takes 'em to tear the fascists down, down, down If it takes 'em to tear the fascists down But when I think of the ships and the men going down While the Russians fight on across the dawn There's London in ruins and Paris in chains Good people, what are we waiting on? Good people, what are we waiting on? So I thank the Soviets and the mighty Chinese vets Allies the whole wide world around To the battling British, thanks, you can have ten million Yanks If it takes 'em to tear the fascists down, down, down If it takes 'em to tear the fascists down
Pete Seeger • He was born May 3, 1919 in Manhattan • “Pete Seeger has embodied the ideals of folk music – communication, entertainment, social comment, historical continuity, inclusiveness.”
Pete Seeger fight for justice • “A fearless warrior for social justice and the environment, Pete’s political activism – from the Civil Rights movement and anti-McCarthyism to resistance to fascism and the wars in Vietnam and the Middle East – has become the template for subsequent generations of musicians and ordinary citizens with something to say about the world.” Source: Appleseed Recording
“Where Have All The Flowers Gone?” Sung by Peter, Paul and Mary Where Have All the Flowers Gone Where have all the flowers gone, long time passing?Where have all the flowers gone, long time ago?Where have all the flowers gone?Young girls have picked them everyone.Oh, when will they ever learn?Oh, 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?Gone for husbands everyone.Oh, when will they ever learn?Oh, when will they ever learn? Where have all the husbands gone, long time passing?Where have all the husbands gone, long time ago?Where have all the husbands gone?Gone for soldiers everyoneOh, when will they ever learn?Oh, 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, everyone.Oh, when will they ever learn?Oh, 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?Gone to flowers, everyone.Oh, when will they ever learn?Oh, when will they ever learn? Where have all the flowers gone, long time passing?Where have all the flowers gone, long time ago?Where have all the flowers gone?Young girls have picked them everyone.Oh, when will they ever learn?Oh, when will they ever learn?
“We Shall Overcome” by Pete Seeger We shall overcome, We shall overcome, We shall overcome, some day.Oh, deep in my heart,I do believeWe shall overcome, some day.We'll walk hand in hand, We'll walk hand in hand, We'll walk hand in hand, some day.Oh, deep in my heart,I do believeWe shall overcome, some day.We shall live in peace, We shall live in peace, We shall live in peace, some day. Oh, deep in my heart,I do believeWe shall overcome, some day.We are not afraid, We are not afraid, We are not afraid, TODAY Oh, deep in my heart,I do believeWe shall overcome, some day.The whole wide world aroundThe whole wide world aroundThe whole wide world around some dayOh, deep in my heart,I do believeWe shall overcome, some day.
Phil Ochs • Phil Ochs was born in El Paso, Texas on Dec. 19. 1940. • His songs are humorous and political. • He wrote about the Vietnam War, Civil Rights and famous people. • He committed suicide on April 9, 1976 at the age of 35
“I Ain't Marching Anymore” By Phil Ochs Oh I marched to the battle of New Orleans At the end of the early British war The young lad started growing The young blood started flowing But I ain't marchin' anymore For I've killed my share of Indians In a thousand different fights I was there at the Little Big Horn I heard many men lying I saw many more dying But I ain't marchin' anymore chorus) It's always the old to lead us to the war It's always the young to fall Now look at all we've won with the saber and the gun Tell me is it worth it all For I stole California from the Mexican land Fought in the bloody Civil War Yes I even killed my brothers And so many others But I ain't marchin' anymore For I marched to the battles of the German trench In a war that was bound to end all wars Oh I must have killed a million men And now they want me back again But I ain't marchin' anymore (chorus) For I flew the final mission in the Japanese sky Set off the mighty mushroom roar When I saw the cities burning I knew that I was learning That I ain't marchin' anymore Now the labor leader's screamin' when they close the missile plants, United Fruit screams at the Cuban shore, Call it "Peace" or call it "Treason," Call it "Love" or call it "Reason," But I ain't marchin' any more, No I ain't marchin' any more
“Here's to the State of Mississippi” Here's to the State of Mississippi, For underneath her borders, the devil draws no lines, If you drag her muddy rivers, nameless bodies you will find. Oh the fat trees of the forest have hid a thousand crimes, The calender is lyin' when it reads the present time. Whoa here's to the land you've torn out the heart of, Mississippi find yourself another country to be part of! And here's to the people of Mississippi Who say the folks up north, they just don't understand And they tremble in the shadows at the thunder of the Klan Oh the sweating of their souls can't wash the blood from off their hands For they smile and shrug their shoulders at the murder of a man. Oh, here's to the land you've torn out the heart of Mississippi find yourself another country to be part of And here's to the schools of Mississippi Where they're teachin’ all the children that they don't have to care. All the rudiments of hatred are present everywhere And every single classroom is a factory of despair And there's nobody learning such a foreign word as ‘fair’Whoa, here's to the land you've torn out the heart of Mississippi find yourself another country to be part of And here's to the cops of Mississippi They're chewin’ their tobacco as they lock the prison door And their bellies bounce inside them when they knock you to the floor No they don't like takin’ prisoners in their private little wars And behind their broken badges there are murderers and more Whoa, here's to the land you've torn out the heart of Mississippi find yourself another country to be part of And here's to the judges of Mississippi Who wear the robe of honor as they crawl into the court And they're guarding all the bastions of their phony legal fort Oh, justice is a stranger when the prisoners report When the black man stands accused the trial is always short Whoa, here's to the land you've torn out the heart of Mississippi find yourself another country to be part of And here's to the government of Mississippi In the swamp of their bureaucracy they're always bogging down And criminals are posing as the mayors of the towns And they hope that no one sees the sights and no one hears the sounds And the speeches of the governor are the ravings of a clown Oh, here's to the land you've torn out the heart of Mississippi find yourself another country to be part of And here's to the laws of Mississippi Congressmen will gather in a circus of delay While the Constitution’s drowning in an ocean of decay ‘Unwed mothers should be sterilized,’ I've even heard them say Yes, corruption can be classic in the Mississippi way Whoa, here's to the land you've torn out the heart of Mississippi find yourself another country to be part of And here's to the churches of Mississippi Where the cross, once made of silver, now is caked with rust And the Sunday morning sermons pander to their lust Oh the fallen face of Jesus is choking in the dust And heaven only knows in which God they can trust Oh, here's to the land you've torn out the heart of Mississippi find yourself another country to be part of
“is there anybody here” by Phil Ochs Is there anybody here who'd like tochange his clothes into a uniformIs there anybody here who thinks they'reonly serving on a raging stormIs there anybody here with glory in their eyesloyal to the end, whose duty is to dieI wanna see himI wanna wish him luckI wanna shake his hand, wanna call his namePut a medal on the man.Is there anybody here who'd like to wrapa flag around an early graveIs there anybody here who thinks they'restanding taller on a battle waveIs there anybody here like to do his partsoldier to the world and a hero to his heartI wanna see himI wanna wish him luckI wanna shake his hand, wanna call his namePut a medal on the manIs there anybody here proud of the paradewho'd like to give a cheer and show they're not afraidI'd like like to ask him what he's trying to defendOh I'd like to ask him what he thinks he's gonna winIs there anybody here who thinks that followingthe orders takes away the blameIs there anybody here who wouldn'tmind a murder by another name Is there anybody here whose pride is on the linewith the honor of the brave and the courage of the blindI wanna see himI wanna wish him luckI wanna shake his hand, wanna call his namePut a medal on the manIs there anybody here so proud of the paradewho'd like to give a cheer and show they're not afraidI'd like to ask him what he's trying to defendI'd like to ask him what he thinks he's gonna winIs there anybody here who thinks that followingthe orders takes away the blameIs there anybody here who wouldn'tmind a murder by another nameIs there anybody here whose pride is on the linewith the honor of the brave and the courage of the blindI wanna see himI wanna wish him luckI wanna shake his hand, ganna call his namePut a medal on the manMedal on the man
Bob Dylan • He was born on May 24, 1941. • His given name is Robert Allen Zimmerman. He changed it in college to Bob Dylan after the Welsh Poet, Dylan Thomas • In 1961, he visited Woody Guthrie, who was dying. • After meeting Woody Guthrie, he wrote furiously. • He wrote a song in honor of Woody Guthrie, A Song to Woody.
“Song to Woody” I’m out here a thousand miles from my homeWalkin’ a road other men have gone downI’m seein’ your world of people and thingsYour paupers and peasants and princes and kings Hey, hey, Woody Guthrie, I wrote you a song’Bout a funny ol’ world that’s a-comin’ alongSeems sick an’ it’s hungry, it’s tired an’ it’s tornIt looks like it’s a-dyin’ an’ it’s hardly been born Hey, Woody Guthrie, but I know that you knowAll the things that I’m a-sayin’ an’ a-many times moreI’m a-singin’ you the song, but I can’t sing enough’Cause there’s not many men that done the things that you’ve done Here’s to Cisco an’ Sonny an’ Leadbelly tooAn’ to all the good people that traveled with youHere’s to the hearts and the hands of the menThat come with the dust and are gone with the wind I’m a-leavin’ tomorrow, but I could leave todaySomewhere down the road somedayThe very last thing that I’d want to doIs to say I’ve been hittin’ some hard travelin’ too
“Blowin’ In the Wind” How many roads must a man walk downBefore you call him a man?Yes, ’n’ how many seas must a white dove sailBefore she sleeps in the sand?Yes, ’n’ how many times must the cannonballs flyBefore they’re forever banned?The answer, my friend, is blowin’ in the windThe answer is blowin’ in the wind How many years can a mountain existBefore it’s washed to the sea?Yes, ’n’ how many years can some people existBefore they’re allowed to be free?Yes, ’n’ how many times can a man turn his headPretending he just doesn’t see? The answer, my friend, is blowin’ in the windThe answer is blowin’ in the wind How many times must a man look upBefore he can see the sky?Yes, ’n’ how many ears must one man haveBefore he can hear people cry?Yes, ’n’ how many deaths will it take till he knowsThat too many people have died?The answer, my friend, is blowin’ in the windThe answer is blowin’ in the wind
“Master of War” Come you masters of warYou that build the big gunsYou that build the death planesYou that build all the bombsYou that hide behind wallsYou that hide behind desksI just want you to knowI can see through your masks.You that never done nothin'But build to destroyYou play with my worldLike it's your little toyYou put a gun in my handAnd you hide from my eyesAnd you turn and run fartherWhen the fast bullets fly.Like Judas of oldYou lie and deceiveA world war can be wonYou want me to believeBut I see through your eyesAnd I see through your brainLike I see through the waterThat runs down my drain.You fasten all the triggersFor the others to fireThen you set back and watchWhen the death count gets higherYou hide in your mansion'As young people's bloodFlows out of their bodiesAnd is buried in the mud. Let me ask you one questionIs your money that goodWill it buy you forgivenessDo you think that it couldI think you will findWhen your death takes its tollAll the money you madeWill never buy back your soul. How much do I knowTo talk out of turnYou might say that I'm youngYou might say I'm unlearnedBut there's one thing I knowThough I'm younger than youThat even Jesus would neverForgive what you do. You've thrown the worst fearThat can ever be hurledFear to bring childrenInto the worldFor threatening my babyUnborn and unnamedYou ain't worth the bloodThat runs in your veins.And I hope that you dieAnd your death'll come soonI will follow your casketIn the pale afternoonAnd I'll watch while you're loweredDown to your deathbedAnd I'll stand over your grave'Til I'm sure that you're dead. Sung by Eddie Vedder
Joan Baez • She was born on: January 9, 1941. • In 1963, She sang We Shall Overcome at the Lincoln Memorial with Martin Luther King. • She sang for Cesar Chavez to help the United Farm Workers.
“Mary” sung Joan Baez Mary you're covered in roses, you're covered in ashesYou're covered in rainYou're covered in babies, you're covered in slashesYou're covered in wilderness, you're covered in stainsYou cast aside the sheet, you cast aside the shroudOf another man, who served the world proudYou greet another son, you lose another oneOn some sunny day and always stay, MaryJesus says Mother I couldn't stay another day longerFlys right by me and leaves a kiss upon her faceWhile the angels are singin' his praises in a blaze of gloryMary stays behind and starts cleaning up the placeMary she moves behind me She leaves her fingerprints everywhereEverytime the snow drifts, everytime the sand shiftsEven when the night lifts, she's always there Jesus said Mother I couldn't stay another day longerFlys right by me and leaves a kiss upon her faceWhile the angels are singin' his praises in a blaze of gloryMary stays behind and starts cleaning up the placeMary you're covered in roses, you're covered in ruinyou're covered in secretsYour'e covered in treetops, you're covered in birdswho can sing a million songs without any wordsYou cast aside the sheets, you cast aside the shroudof another man, who served the world proudYou greet another son, you lose another oneon some sunny day and always stayMary, Mary, Mary Written by Patty Griffin
“Forever Young” sung by Joan Baez May God's blessing keep you always,May your wishes ALL come true,May you always do for othersAnd let others do for you.May you build a ladder to the starsAnd climb on every rung,May you stay forever young.May you grow up to be righteous,May you grow up to be true,May you always know the truthAnd see the LIGHT surrounding you.May you always be courageous,Stand upright and be strong,May you stay forever young,Forever young, forever young,May you stay forever young. May your hands always be busy,May your feet always be swift,May you have a strong foundationWhen the winds of changes shift.May your heart always be joyful,May your song always be sung,May you stay forever young,Forever young, forever young,May you stay forever young. Written by Bob Dylan
Peter, Paul and Mary • Peter Yarrow, Noel (Paul) Stookey and Mary Travers began to perform in 1961. • Their number one song was Puff, the magic dragon. It is not about drugs but based on poem by Leonard Lipton .
“If I had a hammer” sung Peter, Paul & Mary If I had a hammer,I'd hammer in the morningI'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,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 warningI'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 warningI'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. Words and music by Lee Hays and Pete Seeger
“Fortunate Son” sung by Creedence Clearwater Revival Some folks are born 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, Lord, It ain't me, it ain't me, I ain't no senator's son, son. It ain't me, it ain't me; I ain't no fortunate one, no, Yeah! Some folks are born silver spoon in hand, Lord, don't they help themselves, oh. But when the taxman comes to the door, Lord, the house looks like a rummage sale, yes, 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, no. Some folks inherit star spangled eyes, Ooh, they send you down to war, Lord, And when you ask them, "How much should we give?" Ooh, they only answer More! more! more! yoh, 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. It ain't me, it ain't me, I ain't no fortunate one, no no no, It ain't me, it ain't me, I ain't no fortunate son, no no no,
“Ohio” by Crosby, Stills, and Nash 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 itSoldiers are cutting us downShould have been done long ago.What if you knew herAnd found her dead on the groundHow can you run when you know? Gotta get down to itSoldiers are cutting us downShould have been done long ago.What if you knew herAnd found her dead on the groundHow 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.
“I Should Be Proud” by Martha Reeves and Vandellas I was under the dryer when the telegram came:"Private John C. Miller was shot down in Vietnam"Through my tears I read: "No more information at this timeHe's missin' in action somewhere on the Delta Line"And they say that I should be proud; he was fightin' for meThey say that I should be proud, those too blind to seeBut he wasn't fightin' for me, my Johnny didn't have to fight for meHe was fightin' for the evils of societyNow I prayed night & day that my Johnny wouldn't dieLove, faith & hope was all that kept me aliveThen 6 weeks later came that cold & heartless letter:"Private Johnny was killed in action, number 54327"And they say that I should be proud; he was keepin' me freeThey say that I should be proud, those too blind to seeBut he wasn't fightin' for me, my Johnny didn't have to die for meHe was fightin' for the evils of society They shipped him home with medals of honor & gloryEven our local paper ran a front-page story But the whole time gave him praisin' & said how honored I should beBut I don't want no superstar, just the good man they took from meAnd they tell me I should be proud; he was fightin' for meThey say that I should be proud, those too blind to seeBut he wasn't fightin' for me, my Johnny didn't have to die for meHe's a victim of the evils of societyI should be proud of my JohnnyThey tell me that I should be proud; they just don't want Johnny for meThey tell me that I should be proud of my Johnny...
“What’s Going On” by Marvin Gaye Mother, motherThere's too many of you cryingBrother, brother, brotherThere's far too many of you dyingYou know we've got to find a wayTo bring some lovin' here today - YaFather, fatherWe don't need to escalateYou see, war is not the answerFor only love can conquer hateYou know we've got to find a wayTo bring some lovin' here todayPicket lines and picket signsDon't punish me with brutalityTalk to me, so you can seeOh, what's going onWhat's going onYa, what's going onAh, what's going onIn the mean timeRight on, babyRight onRight on Father, father, everybody thinks we're wrongOh, but who are they to judge usSimply because our hair is longOh, you know we've got to find a wayTo bring some understanding here todayOhPicket lines and picket signsDon't punish me with brutalityTalk to meSo you can seeWhat's going onYa, what's going onTell me what's going onI'll tell you what's going on - UhRight on babyRight on baby
Bruce Springsteen • He was born on September 23, 1949 from the state of New Jersey. • He is known as “The Boss”. • His first album was released in 1972. • He writes on various types like anti-war songs, social injustice and the right of underprivilege. • His influences are Woody Guthrie, Pete Seeger and Phil Ochs.
“My City in Ruins” by Bruce Springsteen There is a blood red circleOn the cold dark groundAnd the rain is falling downThe church door's thrown openI can hear the organ's songBut the congregation's goneMy city of ruinsMy city of ruinsNow the sweet bells of mercyDrift through the evening treesYoung men on the cornerLike scattered leaves,The boarded up windows,The empty streetsWhile my brother's down on his kneesMy city of ruinsMy city of ruinsCome on, rise up! Come on, rise up!Come on, rise up! Come on, rise up!Come on, rise up! Come on, rise up!Now's there's tears on the pillowDarlin' where we sleptAnd you took my heart when you leftWithout your sweet kissMy soul is lost, my friendTell me how do I begin again?My city's in ruinsMy city's in ruinsNow with these hands, With these hands,With these hands,I pray LordWith these hands, With these hands,I pray for the strength, LordWith these hands,With these hands,I pray for the faith, LordWe pray for your love, LordWe pray for the lost, LordWe pray for this world, LordWe pray for the strength, LordWe pray for the strength, LordCome onCome onCome on, rise upCome on, rise upCome on, rise upCome on, rise upCome on, rise upCome on, rise upCome on, rise upCome on, rise upCome on, rise up
The Ghost of Tom Joad Men walkin' 'long the railroad tracks Goin' someplace there's no goin' back Highway patrol choppers comin' up over the ridge Hot soup on a campfire under the bridge Shelter line stretchin' 'round the corner Welcome to the new world order Families sleepin' in their cars in the Southwest No home no job no peace no rest The highway is alive tonight But nobody's kiddin' nobody about where it goes I'm sittin' down here in the campfire light Searchin' for the ghost of Tom Joad He pulls a prayer book out of his sleeping bag Preacher lights up a butt and takes a drag Waitin' for when the last shall be first and the first shall be last In a cardboard box 'neath the underpass Got a one-way ticket to the promised land You got a hole in your belly and gun in your hand Sleeping on a pillow of solid rock Bathin' in the city aqueduct The highway is alive tonight Where it's headed everybody knows I'm sittin' down here in the campfire light Waitin' on the ghost of Tom Joad Now Tom said "Mom, wherever there's a cop beatin' a guy Wherever a hungry newborn baby cries Where there's a fight 'gainst the blood and hatred in the air Look for me Mom I'll be there Wherever there's somebody fightin' for a place to stand Or decent job or a helpin' hand Wherever somebody's strugglin' to be free Look in their eyes Mom you'll see me." Well the highway is alive tonight But nobody's kiddin' nobody about where it goes I'm sittin' down here in the campfire light With the ghost of old Tom Joad
“Born in the USA” Born down in a dead man's townThe first kick I took was when I hit the groundYou end up like a dog that's been beat too muchTill you spend half your life just covering upBorn in the U.S.A.I was born in the U.S.A.I was born in the U.S.A.Born in the U.S.A.Got in a little hometown jam so they put a rifle in my handSent me off to a foreign land to go and kill the yellow manBorn in the U.S.A.I was born in the U.S.A.I was born in the U.S.A.I was born in the U.S.A.Born in the U.S.A.Come back home to the refineryHiring man says "son if it was up to me"Went down to see my V.A. manHe said "son don't you understand now"Had a brother at Khe Sahn fighting off the Viet CongThey're still there he's all gone He had a woman he loved in SaigonI got a picture of him in her arms nowDown in the shadow of penitentiaryOut by the gas fires of the refineryI'm ten years burning down the roadNowhere to run ain't got nowhere to goBorn in the U.S.A.I was born in the U.S.A.Born in the U.S.A.I'm a long gone daddy in the U.S.A.Born in the U.S.A.Born in the U.S.A.Born in the U.S.A.I'm a cool rocking daddy in the U.S.A.
“Born To Run” In the day we sweat it out in the streets of a runaway american dreamAt night we ride through mansions of glory in suicide machinesSprung from cages out on highway 9,Chrome wheeled, fuel injected and steppin out over the lineBaby this town rips the bones from your backIts a death trap, it's a suicide rapWe gotta get out while were young`cause tramps like us, baby we were born to runWendy let me in I wanna be your friendI want to guard your dreams and visionsJust wrap your legs round these velvet rimsAnd strap your hands across my enginesTogether we could break this trapWell run till we drop, baby well never go backWill you walk with me out on the wire`cause baby Im just a scared and lonely riderBut I gotta find out how it feelsI want to know if love is wild, girl I want to know if love is real Beyond the palace hemi-powered drones scream down the boulevardThe girls comb their hair in rearview mirrorsAnd the boys try to look so hardThe amusement park rises bold and starkKids are huddled on the beach in a mistI wanna die with you wendy on the streets tonightIn an everlasting kissThe highways jammed with broken heroes on a last chance power driveEverybodys out on the run tonight but there's no place left to hideTogether wendy well live with the sadnessIll love you with all the madness in my soulSomeday girl I don't know when were gonna get to that placeWhere we really want to go and well walk in the sunBut till then tramps like us baby we were born to run
Victor Jara • He was born on September 23, 1932. • He was Chilean folk singer who challenged military rule. • He was imprisoned and torture. • The broke his hands because he used them to play his guitar to sing his protect songs. He taunted the soldiers by singing. He died on September 16, 1973. He was shot 44 times by the miliarty who supported Augusto Augusto Pinochet.
“Victor Jara” Victor Jara was a peasantHe worked from a few years oldHe sat upon his father's plowAnd watched the earth unfoldHis hands were gentle, his hands were strongNow when the neighbors had a weddingOr one of their children diedHis mother sang all night for themWith Victor by her sideHis hands were gentle, his hands were strongHe grew up to be a fighterAgainst the people's wrongsHe listened to their grief and joyAnd turned them into songsHis hands were gentle, his hands were strongHe sang about the copper minersAnd those who worked the landHe sang about the factory workersAnd they knew he was their manHis hands were gentle, his hands were strong He campaigned for AllendeWorking night and dayHe sang "Take hold of your brothers handYou know the future begins today"His hands were gentle, his hands were strong Then the generals seized ChileThey arrested Victor thenThey caged him in a stadiumWith five-thousand frightened menHis hands were gentle, his hands were strongVictor stood in the stadiumHis voice was brave and strongAnd he sang for his fellow prisonersTill the guards cut short his songHis hands were gentle, his hands were strongThey broke the bones in both his handsThey beat him on the headThey tore him with electric shocksAnd then they shot him deadHis hands were gentle, his hands were strong Victor Jara of ChileLived like a shooting starHe fought for the people of ChileWith his songs and his guitarHis hands were gentle, his hands were strong by Adrian Mitchell, music by Arlo Guthrie
“El Martillo “ Oh hermano, oh hermano.Si tuviera un martillogolpearía en la mañanagolpearía en la nochepor todo el paísAlerta el peligrodebemos unirnos para defender,la paz.Si tuviera una campanatocaría en la mañanatocaría en la nochepor todo el paísAlerta el peligrodebemos unirnos para defender,la paz. Si tuviera una cancióncantaría en la mañanacantaría en la nochepor todo el paísAlerta el peligrodebemos unirnos para defender,la paz.Ahora tengo un martilloy tengo una campanay tengo una canción que cantarpor todo el país.Martillo de justiciacampana de libertady una canción de paz.
“El derecho de vivir en paz” The right to live in peace Lyrics Victor JaraThe right to livepoet Ho Chi Minhstriking of Vietnamall humanity.No gun clearedthe path of your rice.The right to live in peace.Indochina is the placebeyond the wide sea,where the flower burstwith genocide and napalm.The moon is an explosionwhich merges all the clamor.The right to live in peace.Uncle Ho, our songFire is pure love,is the pigeon loftoil of olive.It is the universal songa string that will succeedthe right to live in peace. El derecho de vivirpoeta Ho Chi Minh,que golpea de Vietnama toda la humanidad.Ningún cañón borraráel surco de tu arrozal.El derecho de vivir en paz.Indochina es el lugarmas allá del ancho mar,donde revientan la florcon genocidio y napalm.La luna es una explosiónque funde todo el clamor.El derecho de vivir en paz. Tío Ho, nuestra canciónes fuego de puro amor,es palomo palomarolivo de olivar.Es el canto universalcadena que hará triunfar,el derecho de vivir en paz.
“Estadio Chile” Somos cinco milen esta pequeña parte de la ciudad.Somos cinco mil¿ Cuántos seremos en totalen las ciudades y en todo el país ?Solo aquidiez mil manos siembrany hacen andar las fabricas.¡ Cuánta humanidadcon hambre, frio, pánico, dolor,presión moral, terror y locura !Seis de los nuestros se perdieronen el espacio de las estrellas.Un muerto, un golpeado como jamas creíse podria golpear a un ser humano.Los otros cuatro quisieron quitarse todos los temoresuno saltó al vacio,otro golpeandose la cabeza contra el muro,pero todos con la mirada fija de la muerte.¡ Qué espanto causa el rostro del fascismo !Llevan a cabo sus planes con precisión arteraSin importarles nada.La sangre para ellos son medallas.La matanza es acto de heroismo¿ Es este el mundo que creaste, dios mio ?¿Para esto tus siete dias de asombro y trabajo ?en estas cuatro murallas solo existe un numeroque no progresa,que lentamente querrá más muerte. Pero de pronto me golpea la concienciay veo esta marea sin latido,pero con el pulso de las máquinasy los militares mostrando su rostro de matronallena de dulzura.¿ Y Mexico, Cuba y el mundo ?¡ Que griten esta ignominia !Somos diez mil manos menosque no producen.Ay, canto qué mal me salescuando tengo que cantar espanto.Ay, canto qué mal me salesAy, canto qué mal me sales. ¿Cuántos somos en toda la Patria?La sangre del companero Presidentegolpea más fuerte que bombas y metrallasAsi golpeará nuestro puño nuevamente¡Canto que mal me salesCuando tengo que cantar espanto!Espanto como el que vivocomo el que muero, espanto.De verme entre tanto y tantosmomentos del infinitoen que el silencio y el gritoson las metas de este canto.Lo que veo nunca vi,lo que he sentido y que sientohara brotar el momentohará brotar el momento.
Chile Stadium There are five thousand of us herein this small part of the city.We are five thousand.I wonder how many we are in allin the cities and in the whole country?Here aloneare ten thousand hands which plant seedsand make the factories run.How much humanityexposed to hunger, cold, panic, pain,moral pressure, terror and insanity?Six of us were lostas if into starry space.One dead, another beaten as I could never have believeda human being could be beaten.The other four wanted to end their terrorone jumping into nothingness,another beating his head against a wall,but all with the fixed stare of death.What horror the face of fascism creates!They carry out their plans with knife-like precision.Nothing matters to them.To them, blood equals medals,slaughter is an act of heroism.Oh God, is this the world that you created,for this your seven days of wonder and work?Within these four walls only a number existswhich does not progress,which slowly will wish more and more for death. But suddenly my conscience awakesand I see that this tide has no heartbeat,only the pulse of machinesand the military showing their midwives’ facesfull of sweetness.Let Mexico, Cuba and the worldcry out against this atrocity!We are ten thousand handswhich can produce nothing. How many of us in the whole country?The blood of our President, our compañero,will strike with more strength than bombs and machine guns!So will our fist strike again!How hard it is to singwhen I must sing of horror.Horror which I am living,horror which I am dying.To see myself among so muchand so many moments of infinityin which silence and screamsare the end of my song.What I see, I have never seenWhat I have felt and what I feelWill give birth to the moment.Will give birth to the moment.How hard it is to singwhen I must sing of horror.How hard it is to singHow hard it is to sing….
Sam Cooke “King of Soul” A Change Is Gonna Come"I was born by the river in a little tentAnd just like that river I've been running ever sinceIt's been a long time comingBut I know a change is gonna come, oh yes it willIt's been too hard living, but I'm afraid to dieCos I don't know what's out there beyond the skyIt's been a long, a long time comingBut I know a change is gonna come, oh yes it willI go to the movieAnd I go down townsomebody keep telling me don't hang aroundIts been along time comingBut I know a change is gonna come, oh yes it willThen I go to my brotherAnd I say brother help me pleaseBut he winds up knockin' meBack down on my kneesThere were times when I thought I couldn't last for longBut now I think I'm able to carry onIt's been a long, a long time comingBut I know a change gone come, oh yes it will He was on January 22, 1931 in Clarksdale, Mississippi. He died at the age of 33. He was a gospel singer and crossed over to pop. He was killed in 1964 by a hotel manager.
Nina Simone "High Priestess of Soul" She was born on February 21, 1933 and died on April 21, 2003. She attended Julliard for one year but ran out of money. She wrote “Mississippi Goddam” after the death of Medgar Evers and the Birmingham church bombing that killed four young African-American girls.
"Mississippi Goddam" The name of this tune is Mississippi GoddamAnd I mean every word of itAlabama's gotten me so upsetTennessee made me lose my restAnd everybody knows about Mississippi GoddamAlabama's gotten me so upsetTennessee made me lose my restAnd everybody knows about Mississippi GoddamCan't you see itCan't you feel itIt's all in the airI can't stand the pressure much longerSomebody say a prayerAlabama's gotten me so upsetTennessee made me lose my restAnd everybody knows about Mississippi GoddamThis is a show tuneBut the show hasn't been written for it, yetHound dogs on my trailSchool children sitting in jailBlack cat cross my pathI think every day's gonna be my last Lord have mercy on this land of mineWe all gonna get it in due timeI don't belong hereI don't belong thereI've even stopped believing in prayer Don't tell meI tell youMe and my people just about dueI've been there so I knowThey keep on saying "Go slow!"But that's just the trouble"do it slow"Washing the windows"do it slow"Picking the cotton"do it slow"You're just plain rotten"do it slow"You're too damn lazy"do it slow"The thinking's crazy"do it slow"Where am I goingWhat am I doingI don't knowI don't know
"Mississippi Goddam" But that's just the trouble"do it slow"Desegregation"do it slow"Mass participation"do it slow"Reunification"do it slow"Do things gradually"do it slow"But bring more tragedy"do it slow"Why don't you see itWhy don't you feel itI don't knowI don't knowYou don't have to live next to meJust give me my equalityEverybody knows about MississippiEverybody knows about AlabamaEverybody knows about Mississippi GoddamThat's it! Just try to do your very bestStand up be counted with all the restFor everybody knows about Mississippi Goddam I made you thought I was kiddin'Picket linesSchool boy cotsThey try to say it's a communist plotAll I want is equalityfor my sister my brother my people and meYes you lied to me all these yearsYou told me to wash and clean my earsAnd talk real fine just like a ladyAnd you'd stop calling me Sister SadieOh but this whole country is full of liesYou're all gonna die and die like fliesI don't trust you any moreYou keep on saying "Go slow!""Go slow!"
"Why? (The King of Love is Dead)" Once upon this planet earth Lived a man humble down Preaching Love and freedom For his fellow man He was dreaming our day Peace would come to us to stay And he‘d spread his message All across the land Turn the other cheek He’d plead Love thy neighbor Was his creed Pain, humiliation, death He did not dread With his bible at his side From his foes he did not hide It’s hard to think That this great man is dead Oh Yeah! For the murders never cease Are they men or are they beast What do they ever hope? Ever hope to gain Will my country For us, stand up tall Is it too late for us all? And did Martin Luther King Just die In Vain Cause he’d seen the mountain top And he knew he could not stop Always living With the threat of death ahead Folks you'd better Stop and think Cause we’re headed for the brink What will happen now? That he is dead He was for equality For all people you and me With love and good will Hate was not his way He was not a violent man Tell me folks if you can Just Why Why was he shot down? The other day You would say He had seen The mountain top And he knew he could not stop Always living with the Threat of death ahead Folks you'd better stop and think And Feel Again Cause we're headed for the brink What’s going to happen? Now that the King of love Is dead! Written by Gene Taylor