1. |
Big Rock Candy Mountain
00:37
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BIG ROCK CANDY MOUNTAIN - Harry McClintock
One evening as the sun went down
And the jungle fires were burning,
Down the track came a hobo hiking,
And he said, "Boys, I'm not turning
I'm headed for a land that's far away
Besides the crystal fountains
So come with me, we'll go and see
The Big Rock Candy Mountains
In the Big Rock Candy Mountains,
There's a land that's fair and bright,
Where the handouts grow on bushes
And you sleep out every night.
Where the boxcars all are empty
And the sun shines every day
And the birds and the bees
And the cigarette trees
The lemonade springs
Where the bluebird sings
In the Big Rock Candy Mountains.
In the Big Rock Candy Mountains
All the cops have wooden legs
And the bulldogs all have rubber teeth
And the hens lay soft-boiled eggs
The farmers' trees are full of fruit
And the barns are full of hay
Oh I'm bound to go
Where there ain't no snow
Where the rain don't fall
The winds don't blow
In the Big Rock Candy Mountains.
In the Big Rock Candy Mountains
You never change your socks
And the little streams of alcohol
Come trickling down the rocks
The brakemen have to tip their hats
And the railway bulls are blind
There's a lake of stew
And of whiskey too
You can paddle all around it
In a big canoe
In the Big Rock Candy Mountains
In the Big Rock Candy Mountains,
The jails are made of tin.
And you can walk right out again,
As soon as you are in.
There ain't no short-handled shovels,
No axes, saws nor picks,
I'm bound to stay
Where you sleep all day,
Where they hung the jerk
That invented work
In the Big Rock Candy Mountains.
....
I'll see you all this coming fall
In the Big Rock Candy Mountains
The punk rolled up his big blue eyes
And said to the jocker, "Sandy,
I've hiked and hiked and wandered too,
But I ain't seen any candy.
I've hiked and hiked till my feet are sore
And I'll be damned if I hike any more
To be buggered sore like a hobo's whore
In the Big Rock Candy Mountains."
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2. |
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THE BEAST (SONG OF THE PUNCH PRESS OPERATOR) Pete Seeger and Bernie Packer
I got a job in a factory
Feeding a beast that don't like me.
It don't give a darn about how I feel
As long as I feed it its ration of steel.
And pity the man who knows the grief
That comes with the bite of that monster's teeth.
Pity the man who knows the grief
That comes with the bite of that monster's teeth.
Watch your mitts at the start of the stroke,
It's a re-peat killer, and will go for broke;
It shoulda been melted 'bout twenty years back,
But it feeds the boss, and he loves that snack.
Oh, Beast, spare my hands,
I'll use them to slay you if I get the chance.
Oh, Beast, spare my hands,
I'll use them to slay you if I get the chance.
There ain't no guards to slow up a man,
Keep your foot on the pedal and your eye on the ram.
If your hand should slip, why, the boss don't shout;
He just buys new fingers as he throws you out.
There's plenty of hands to feed the jaws,
The press don't stop when there ain't no cause.
There's plenty of hands to feed the jaws,
The press don't stop when there ain't no cause.
There ain't one man out on the press,
Who wouldn't quit if jobs weren't scarce;
But a man has to have his daily meal,
And that Beast's gotta have its cold, rolled steel.
Deep inside remain the dreams
That make us the masters of the machines.
While deep inside remain the dreams
That make us the masters of the machines.
Well, now, I got a job in a factory
Feeding a beast that don't like me.
It don't give a darn about how I feel
As long as I feed it its ration of steel.
And pity the man who knows the grief
That comes with the bite of that monster's teeth.
Pity the man who knows the grief
That comes with the bite of that monster's teeth.
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3. |
Mr Blue (Tom Paxton)
00:38
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MR BLUE - Tom Paxton
Good morning Mister Blue, we've got our eyes on you.
The evidence is clear, that you've been scheming.
You like to steal away and while away the day.
You like to spend an hour dreaming.
What will it take, to whip you into line?
A broken heart?
A broken head?
It can be arranged.
Step softly Mister Blue, we know what's best for you.
We know where your precious dreams will take you.
You've got a slot to fill, and fill that slot you will.
You'll learn to love it, or we'll break you.
Oh, what will it take, to whip you into line?
A broken heart?
A broken head?
It can be arranged.
Be careful Mister Blue this phase you're going through,
Can lead you nowhere else, but to disaster.
Excuse us while we grin, you've worn our patience thin.
It's time to show you who's your master.
What will it take, to whip you into line?
A broken heart?
A broken head?
It can be arranged.
Don't worry Mister Blue, we'll take good care of you.
Just think of it as sense and not surrender.
But never think again, that you can think again,
Or you'll get something you'll remember.
What will it take to whip you into line?
A broken heart?
A broken head?
It can be arranged.
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4. |
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WHAT ARE YOU FIGHTING FOR - Phil Ochs
there is danger to the land you call your own
you watch them build the war machine right beside your home
tell me that you are ready to go marching off to war
I know you’re set for fighting, but what are you fighting for?
Turn on your tv, turn it on so loud
And watch the fool a smiling there and tell me that you’re proud
And listen to your radio, the noise it starts to pour
Oh I know you’re set for fighting, but what are you fighting for?
Read your morning papers, read every single line
And tell me if you can believe that simple world you find
Read every slanted word till your eyes are getting sore,
ragged clothes upon your back and sleep upon the ground,
And tell police about your rights as they drag you down,
And ask them as they lead you to some deserted door,
But the hardest thing I’ll ask you, if you will only try
Is take your children by their hands and look into their eyes
And there you’ll see the answer you should have seen before
If you’ll win the wars at home, there’ll be no fighting anymore
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The Oily Menace Lansing, Michigan
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