Folk songs can tell us tales about the times we live And help remind us of what's passed To our sons we can leave some signs So like our fathers we might
Come here alone and they leave in twos Except for you and me who just came to use If you're all done like you said you'd be What are you doing hanging
Mike Settle Well, how many beans could Woody have picked when he was always writing songs? You believe that story about hard travelin', well, I can tell
One type of song that has come into increasing prominence in recent months is the folk-song of protest. you have to admire people who sing these songs
spoken: Ernie: And now, we'd like to do a song about our roots. Bert: Ernie, we're gonna sing about trees? Ernie: No, Bert. By roots I mean family.
Maybe you're insecure Neck deep in life's manure Maybe your heart's impure Inured to all small compensations Maybe you're born to lose Could be caught
Well I was born in 1965 That was a hell of a good time to be alive Except that by the age of ten The music had turned crap again Now people say they
Got a stupid job but it's fair money I got a brand new car but I can't drive I've got a sweetheart, I call her honey And I've also got a wife People
I have waited the night over For some word to come I asked the moon o'er the clover But the moon she is dumb You've made me a promise At midnight we'
I spent all night chasing after some ? who turns out to be mad like really mad really mad really mad there's always some new ? some better ? just waiting
It's a chilly Florentine evening, two men in evening hats Telling tales of the underground and fishing for Reds Policemen armed with Uzi's stand guard
He's the man with the banjo and the 12-string guitar And he's singing us the songs that tell us who we are When you look in his eyes You know that somebody
i'm not the type that likes to think about the time i was broke and reminiss how everybody thougt my rhyme was a joke i played it fair while completitors
It's not what you say It's how you say it Give me a microphone On stage, I'll display it Playing me right and you'll get played out Like Polka dots
by Maggie, Terre and Suzzy Roche Face down at Folk City When you came in here your were looking so pretty With your dracula cape and your bat what
My hands are tied behing my back my face is red with hate I know i've tried to be the better man but I can't accept this fate It's seems every time I
Hört ihr wie das Volk erklingt Von unserer Wut erzählt der Wind Das ist die Sinfonie von Menschen Die nicht länger Sklaven sind Jedes Herz
Oh the blood, oh the blood Oh the massacre Oh the blood, oh the blood Oh the massacre Your love will run and hide And leave me on my own The true one