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Civil Right Songs. “I had spent many years pursuing excellence, because that is what classical music is all about. Now it was dedicated to freedom, and that was far more important.” Nina Simone. Essential Questions. What impact do songs have on social movements?
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Civil Right Songs “I had spent many years pursuing excellence, because that is what classical music is all about. Now it was dedicated to freedom, and that was far more important.” Nina Simone
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.
She was born on May 31, 1931 and passed on November 5, 2010. She was an opera singer who performed at the Met in New York City, Italy and France. At times, she was not allowed to sing in opera houses because she was black. Through her career, she fought racial discrimination. Oh freedom, oh freedom, oh freedom over meAfter awhile, and before I'd be a slave I'll be buried in my graveAnd go home to my Lord and be freeNo more mourning, no more mourning, no more mourning over me when I am freeAnd before I'd be a slave, I'll be buried in a my graveAnd I go home to my Lord and be freeNo more crying, no more dying, Lord, no more crying over me, and I am freeAnd before I'd be a slave, I'll be buried deep in a my graveAnd I go home to my Lord and be freeOh sweet freedom, oh sweet freedom, oh sweet freedom over meAnd before I'd be a slave, I'll be buried in a my graveAnd I will go home to my Lord and be free Shirley Verrett sings “Oh Freedom”
He was born 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. Sam Cooke “King of Soul”
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 will Then 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 “A Change Is Gonna Come”
AmenThis little light of mineI'm going to let it shineThis little light of mineI'm going to let it shineThis little light of mine,I'm going to let it shine,Let it shineLet it shine to show my loveEverywhere I go I'm gonna let it shineEverywhere I go I'm gonna let it shineEverywhere I go I'm gonna let it shineI let it shine to show my loveEven in my home I'm gonna let is shineI let it shine to show my loveWhen I see my neighbor coming I'm gonna let it shineAmen “This Little Light of Mine” Sung by Sam Cooke
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. Nina Simone "High Priestess of Soul"
My skin is black My arms are long My hair is woolly My back is strong Strong enough to take the pain Inflicted again and again What do they call me My name is Aunt Sarah My name is Aunt Sarah Aunt Sarah My skin is yellow My hair is long Between two worlds I do belong My father was rich and white He forced my mother late one night What do they call me My name is Saffronia My name is Saffronia My skin is tan My hair is fine My hips invite you My mouth like wine Whose little girl am I? Anyone who has money to buy What do they call me My name is Sweet Thing My name is Sweet Thing My skin is brown And my manner is tough I'll kill the first mother I see My life has to been rough I'm awfully bitter these days Because my parents were slaves What do they call me My name is PEACHES “Four Women”
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 mine We 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!" "Mississippi Goddam"
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! "Why? (The King of Love is Dead)" Written by Gene Taylor
I wish I knew howIt would feel to be freeI wish I could breakAll the chains holding meI wish I could sayAll the things that I should saySay 'em loud say 'em clearFor the whole round world to hearI wish I could shareAll the love that's in my heartRemove all the barsThat keep us apartI wish you could knowWhat it means to be meThen you'd see and agreeThat every man should be freeI wish I could giveAll I'm longin' to giveI wish I could liveLike I'm longin' to liveI wish I could doAll the things that I can doAnd though I'm way over dueI'd be starting a new Well I wish I could be Like a bird in the skyHow sweet it would beIf I found I could flyOh I'd soar to the sunAnd look down at the seaThan I'd sing cos I know - yeaThen I'd sing cos I know - yeaThen I'd sing cos I know I'd know how it feelsOh I know how it feels to be freeYea Yea! Oh, I know how it feelsYes I know Oh, I knowHow it feelsHow it feelsTo be free “I Wish I Knew (How It Would Feel to Be Free)” Written by Billy Taylor and Dick Dallas
“ When Will We Be Paid (For the Work We’ve Done)?” When will we be paid for the work we've done?When will we be paid for the work we've done? We have worked this country from shore to shoreOur women cooked all your food and washed all your clothesWe picked all your cotton and laid the railroad steel Worked our hands to the bone at your lumber mill. I say...When will we be paid for the work we've done?When will we be paid for the work we've done?We fought in your wars in every landTo keep this country free, y'all, for women, children and menBut any time we ask for pay or a loanThat's when everything seems to turn out wrongWe been beat up, called names, shot down and stonedEvery time we do right, someone say we're wrongWhen will we be paid for the work we've done?When will we be paid for the work we've done?We have given our sweat, and all our tearsWe stumbled through this life for more than 300 yearsWe've been separated from the language we knew,Stripped of our culture, people you know it's true. Tell me now...When will we be paid for the work we've done?When will we be paid for the work we've done?(When will we be paid for the work we've done?When will we be paid for the work we've done?)Will we ever be proud of "My country, tis of thee"?Will we ever sing out loud, "Sweet land of Liberty"?Will we ever have peace and harmony?(When will we be paid for the work we've done?When will we be paid for the work we've done?) They were a family who sang gospel music. In 1999, They were inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. The Staple Singers
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
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. “We Shall Overcome” by Pete Seeger
If you miss me at the back of the busyou can't find me nowherecome on over to the front of the busI'll be riding up there.If you miss me on the picket lineyou can't find me nowherecome on over to the city jailI'll be roaming over there.If you miss me in the Mississippi Riveryou can't find me nowherecome on over to the swimming poolI'll be swimming right there. If you miss me in the cotton fieldsyou can't find me nowherecome on over to the courthouseI'll be voting right there. If you miss me at the back of the busyou can't find me nowherecome on over to the front of the busI'll be riding up there. “If You Miss Me at the Back of the Bus”
Paul and Silas, bound in jailHad no money for to go their bailKeep your eyes on the prize, hold onHold on, (hold on), hold on, (hold on)Keep your eyes on the prize, hold on!Hold on, (hold on), hold on, (hold on)Keep your eyes on the prize, hold on!Paul and Silas began to shoutDoors popped open, and they walked outKeep your eyes on the prize, hold onHold on, (hold on), hold on, (hold on)Keep your eyes on the prize, hold on!Well, the only chains that we can standAre the chains of hand in handKeep your eyes on the prize, hold onGot my hand on the freedom plowWouldn't take nothing for my journey nowKeep your eyes on the prize, hold on!Hold on, (hold on), hold on, (hold on)Keep your eyes on the prize, hold on!Hold on, (hold on), hold on, (hold on)Keep your Eyes on the Prize, hold on! Hold on, (hold on), hold on, (hold on)Keep your eyes on the prize, hold on!Hold on, (hold on), hold on, (hold on)Keep your eyes on the prize, hold on!(Hold on, hold on, hold on, hold on)(Hold on, hold on, hold on, hold on)(Hold on, hold on, hold on, hold on) “Keep Your Eyes on The Prize”
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.
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 “Here's to the State of Mississippi”
In the state of Mississippi many years ago A boy of 14 years got a taste of southern law He saw his friend a hanging and his color was his crime And the blood upon his jacket left a brand upon his mind CHORUS: Too many martyrs and too many dead Too many lies too many empty words were said Too many times for too many angry men Oh let it never be again And the boy became a man, the man became a cause The cause became the hope for the country and it's laws. They tried to burn his home and they beat him to the ground But deep inside they both knew what it took to bring him down *chorus* The killer waited by his home hidden by the night As Evers stepped out from his car into the rifle sight He slowly squeezed the trigger, the bullet left his side It struck the heart of every man when Evers fell and died. *chorus* And they laid him in his grave while the bugle sounded clear Laid him in his grave when the victory was near While we waited for the future for freedom through the land The country gained a killer and the country lost a man *chorus* Ballad Of Medgar Evers
I'll sing you a song about a southern town where the devil had his ruleWhen marshalls faced an angry mob to send one man to schoolHis name was jimmy meredithThe tide he helped to turnFor he chose to stay on that terrible dayThe land was soon to learnThere was blood, red blood, on their hands,Yellow dirt on their clothesWhat they thought they were doing,Only God and the devil knowsThere was hate, cold hate, in their hearts,Shot from their souls like a gunAnd as they threw their stones and bricks,They screamed, "see what you have done!"The governor made a promise he would keep the trouble downBut when the mob got ugly no troopers could be foundAnd men were filled with hate and fear,They screamed into the nightThe rebel flag waved in the airThe symbol of state's rights There was blood, red blood, on their hands,Yellow dirt on their clothesWhat they thought they were doing,Only God and the devil knowsThere was hate, cold hate, in their hearts,Shot from their souls like a gunAnd as they threw their stones and bricks,They screamed, "see what you have done Gas was fired into the mob after each attackAnd though the gas was running low, they never fired backAnd when the smoke had cleared and the fury felt it's painTwo men were dead and a hundred bledThe south had risen againSo listen mr barnet, and mr walker, tooThe times are changing mighty fast, they'll roll right over youBut someday you'll head for the south, to the southern tip of hellAnd it's hot down there, white-hot down thereLet's hear your rebel yell!There was blood, red blood, on their hands,Yellow dirt on their clothesWhat they thought they were doing,Only God and the devil knowsThere was hate, cold hate, in their hearts,Shot from their souls like a gunAnd as they threw their stones and bricks,They screamed, "see what you have done!""see what you have done!" “Ballad of Oxford (Jimmy Meredith)” by Phil Ochs
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.
Oxford Town, Oxford TownEv'rybody's got their hats bowed downThe sun don't shine above the groundAin't a-goin' down to Oxford Town.He went down to Oxford TownGuns and clubs followed him downAll because his face was brownBetter get away from Oxford Town.Oxford Town around the bendHe comes to the door, he couln't get inAll because of the color of his skinWhat do you think about that, my frien' ? Me and my gal, my gal's sonWe got met with a tear gas bombI don't even know why we comeGoin' back where we come from.Oxford Town in the afternoonEv'rybody singin' a sorrowful tuneTwo men died 'neath the Mississippi moonSomebody better investigate soon. “Oxford Town” by 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 mountainsI’ve walked and I’ve crawled on six crooked highwaysI’ve stepped in the middle of seven sad forestsI’ve been out in front of a dozen dead oceansI’ve been ten thousand miles in the mouth of a graveyardAnd it’s a hard, and it’s a hard, it’s a hard, and it’s a hardAnd 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 itI saw a highway of diamonds with nobody on itI 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 waterI saw ten thousand talkers whose tongues were all brokenI saw guns and sharp swords in the hands of young childrenAnd it’s a hard, and it’s a hard, it’s a hard, it’s a hardAnd 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 worldHeard 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 gutterHeard the sound of a clown who cried in the alleyAnd it’s a hard, and it’s a hard, it’s a hard, it’s a hardAnd 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 ponyI met a white man who walked a black dogI met a young woman whose body was burningI met a young girl, she gave me a rainbowI met one man who was wounded in loveI met another man who was wounded with hatredAnd it’s a hard, it’s a hard, it’s a hard, it’s a hardIt’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 forestWhere the people are many and their hands are all emptyWhere the pellets of poison are flooding their watersWhere the home in the valley meets the damp dirty prisonWhere the executioner’s face is always well hiddenWhere hunger is ugly, where souls are forgottenWhere black is the color, where none is the numberAnd I’ll tell it and think it and speak it and breathe itAnd reflect it from the mountain so all souls can see itThen 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 hardIt’s a hard rain’s a-gonna fall 'A Hard Rain's A-Gonna Fall‘ Sung by the Staple Singers
They say everything can be replacedThey say every distance is not nearSo I remember every faceOf every man who put me hereI see my light come shinin'From the west down to the eastAny day now, any day nowI shall be releasedThey say every man needs protectionThey say that every man must fallYet I swear I see my reflectionSomewhere so high above this wall I see my light come shinin'From the west down to the eastAny day now, any day nowI shall be releasedNow yonder stands a man in this lonely crowdA man who swears he's not to blameAll day long I hear him shouting so loudJust crying out that he was framedI see my light come shinin'From the west down to the eastAny day now, any day nowI shall be released "I Shall Be Released" Sung by The Band
JOHN COLTRANE ~ “Alabama” • He wrote the song after the bombing 16th Street Baptist Church on September 15, 1963.
I left my home in Norfolk Virginia,California on my mind.Straddled that Greyhound, rode him past Raleigh,On across Caroline.Stopped in Charlotte and bypassed Rock Hill,And we never was a minute late.We was ninety miles out of Atlanta by sundown,Rollin' 'cross the Georgia state.We had motor trouble it turned into a struggle,Half way 'cross Alabam,And that 'hound broke down and left us all strandedIn downtown Birmingham.Straight off, I bought me a through train ticket,Ridin' cross Mississippi cleanAnd I was on that midnight flyer out of BirminghamSmoking into New Orleans.Somebody help me get out of LouisianaJust help me get to Houston town.There's people there who care a little 'bout meAnd they won't let the poor boy down. Sure as you're born, they bought me a silk suit,Put luggage in my hands,And I was on that midnight flyer out of BirminghamSmoking into New Orleans.Workin' on a T-bone steak a la carteFlying over to the Golden State;The pilot told me in thirteen minutesWe'd be headin' in the terminal gate.Swing low sweet chariot, come down easyTaxi to the terminal zone;Cut your engines, cool your wings,And let me make it to the telephone.Los Angeles give me Norfolk Virginia,Tidewater four ten O nineTell the folks back home this is the promised land callin'And the poor boy's on the line. “The Promise Land” by Chuck Berry
People get ready, there's a train a comin' You don't need no baggage, you just get on board All you need is faith to hear the diesels hummin' Don't need no ticket, you just thank the LordPeople get ready for the train to Jordan It's picking up passengers from coast to coast Faith is the key, open the doors and board 'em There's hope for all among those loved the most. There ain't no room for the hopeless sinnerWho would hurt all mankind just to save his own Have pity on those whose chances grow thinnerFor there's no hiding place against the Kingdom's throneSo people get ready, there's a train a comin' You don't need no baggage, you just get on board All you need is faith to hear the diesels hummin' Don't need no ticket, you just thank the Lord “People Get Ready” Lyrics by Curtis Mayfield And The Impressions
Keep on pushing Keep on pushing I've got to keep on pushing I can't stop now Move up a little higher Some way or somehow 'Cause I've got my strength And it don't make sense Not to keep on pushin' Hallelujah, Hallelujah Keep on pushing Now maybe some day I'll reach that higher goal I know that I can make it With just a little bit of soul 'Cause I've got my strength And it don't make sense Not to keep on pushin' Now look-a look, look-a-look, a-look-a yonder What's that I see A great big stone wall Stands there ahead of me But I've got my pride And I'll move on aside And keep on pushin' Hallelujah, Hallelujah Keep on pushing Keep on pushing Keep on pushing “Keep On Pushing” by Curtis Mayfield & The Impressions
Ain't gonna let nobody turn me around Turn me around, turn me around Ain't gonna let nobody turn me around I'm gonna keep on a-walkin', keep on a-talkin' Marchin' up to freedom land. Ain't gonna let no injunction turn me around Turn me around, turn me around Ain't gonna let no injunction turn me around I'm gonna keep on a-walkin', keep on a-talkin' Marchin' up to freedom land. Ain't gonna let no hatred turn me around Turn me around, turn me around Ain't gonna let no hatred turn me around I'm gonna keep on a-walkin', keep on a-talkin' Marchin' up to freedom land. Ain't gonna let racism turn me around Turn me around, turn me around Ain't gonna let racism turn me around I'm gonna keep on a-walkin', keep on a-talkin' Marchin' up to freedom land. Ain't gonna let injustice turn me around Turn me around, turn me around Ain't gonna let injustice turn me around I'm gonna keep on a-walkin', keep on a-talkin' Marchin' up to freedom land. Ain't gonna let no jail cell turn me around Turn me around, turn me around Ain't gonna let no jail cell turn me around I'm gonna keep on a-walkin', keep on a-talkin' Marchin' up to freedom land. Ain't gonna let nobody turn me around Turn me around, turn me around Ain't gonna let nobody turn me around I'm gonna keep on a-walkin', keep on a-talkin' Marchin' up to freedom land. Aint Gonna Let Nobody Turn Me Around
What you want (hooo) baby I got itWhat you need (hooo) you know I got it(Hooo) all I'm asking (hooo) is for a little respect( Just a little bit) when you come home(Just a little bit) hey baby ( Just little bit)When you come home ( Just a Little Bit) Mister I ain't gonna do you wrong while you're goneI ain't gonna do you wrong 'cause I don't wannaAll I'm asking is for a little respect when you come home(Just a Little Bit) Baby ( Just a little bit )When you come home ( Just a little Bit) Yeah I'm about to give you all my moneyAnd all I'm asking in return honeyIs to give me my propers when you get home(Justa Justa Justa) Yeah baby when you get home (Just a little Bit ) Yeah ( Just a little bit) Hooo your kisses sweeter than honey and guess what so is my moneyAll I want you to do for me is give it to me whn you get home( Re re re re spect) Yeah baby whip it to me( Just a little bit) when you get home now ( Just a little bit) R-E-S-P-E-C-T find out what it means to meR-E-S-P-E-C-T, Take care, TCB ohhhh (Sock it to me,etc.) A little respect oh yeah ( Just a little bit)A little respect ( Just a little Bit) “Respect” by Aretha Franklin
Blackbird singing in the dead of nightTake these broken wings and learn to flyAll your lifeYou were only waiting for this moment to arise.Blackbird singing in the dead of nightTake these sunken eyes and learn to seeAll your lifeYou were only waiting for this moment to be free. Blackbird fly Blackbird flyInto the light of the dark black night.Blackbird fly Blackbird flyInto the light of the dark black night.Blackbird singing in the dead of nightTake these broken wings and learn to flyAll your lifeYou were only waiting for this moment to ariseYou were only waiting for this moment to ariseYou were only waiting for this moment to arise. "Blackbird"By the Beatles
Sources • http://rockhall.com/education/resources/lesson-plans/ • Music With a Message: A Brief History of Protest Music in North America by Matt Gibson — August 20, 2008