Look Out You Commies

I Don't Need This Pressure Ron
Billy Bragg

What was that bang? It was the next big thing
Exploding over our heads
And soon the next generation
Will emerge from behind the bike sheds
What are we going to offer them?
The exact same thing as before
But a different way to wear it
And the promise of a whole lot more

Oh, pity the pressures at the top,
The tantrums and the tears
And the sound of platinum cash tills
Ringing in their ears
Money maketh man a Tory
Don't fire that assumption at me
I like toast as much as anyone
But not for breakfast, dinner, and tea

So don't saddle me with your ideals
And spare me all your guilt
For a poet with all the answers
Has never yet been built

I see no shame in putting my name
To socialism's cause
Nor seeking some more relevance
Than spotlight and applause
Neither in the name of conscience
Nor the name of charity
Money is put where mouths are
In the name of solidarity

We sing of freedom
And we speak of liberation
But such chances come
But once a generation
So I'll ignore what I am sure
Were the best of your intentions
You are judged by your actions
And not by your pretensions

There is drudgery in social change
And glory for the few
And if you don't tell me what not to say
I won't tell you what not to do

Got a copy of The Little Red Songbook, edgar?

Ya Ain't Done Nothin' If Ya Ain't Been Called A Red

Faith Petric

When I was just a little thing
I used to love parades.
With banners, bands, red balloons,
and maybe lemonade.
When I came home one May Day,
my neighbour's father said,
"Them marchers is all commies.
Tell me kid, are you a Red?"

Well I didn't know just what he meant-
my hair back then was brown.
Our house was plain red brick-
like most others in the town.
So I went and asked my momma
why our neighbour called me red.
My mummy took me on her knee
and this is what she said,

"Well ya ain't done nothing
if ya ain't been called a Red.
If you marched or agitated,
then you're bound to hear it said.
So you might as well ignore it
or love the word instead.
Cuz ya ain't been doing nothing
if ya ain't been called a Red."

When I was growing up,
had my troubles I suppose.
When someone took exception
to my face or to my clothes.
Or tried to cheat me on the job
or hit me on the head.
When I organized to fight back,
why the stinkers called me Red

But ya ain't done nothing
if ya ain't been called a Red
if you marched or agitated,
then you're bound to hear it said.
So you might as well ignore it
or love the word instead.
Cuz ya ain't been doing nothing
if ya ain't been called a Red.

When I was living on my own,
one apartment that I had.
Had a lousy rotten landlord
Let me tell you he was bad.
But when he tried to throw me out,
I rubbed my hands and said,
"You haven't seen a struggle
if you haven't fought a Red!"

And ya ain't done nothing
if ya ain't been called a Red.
If you marched or agitated,
then you're bound to hear it said.
So you might as well ignore it
or love the word instead.
Cuz ya ain't been doing nothing
if ya ain't been called a Red.

The Ballad Of John Henry Faulk
By Phil Ochs

I'll tell you the story of John Henry Faulk.
I'll tell you of his trials and the troubled trail he walked,
And I'll tell of the tyrants, the ones you never see:
Murder is the role they play and hatred is their fee.

On the TV and the radio John Henry Faulk was known.
He talked to many thousands with a mind that was his own,
But he could not close his eyes when the lists were passed around,
So he tried to move the Union to tear the blacklist down.

His friends they tried to warn him he was headin' for a fall.
If he spoke against the blacklist he had no chance at all,
But he laughed away their warnings and he laughed away their fears:
For how could lies destroy the work of many honest years?

Then slowly, oh so slowly, his life began to change.
People would avoid his eyes, his friends were actin' strange,
And he finally saw the power of the hidden poison pen
When they told him that his job was through, he'd never work again.

And he could not believe what his sad eyes had found.
He stared in disbelief as his world came tumblin' down,
And as the noose grew tighter, at last the trap was clear:
For every place he turned to go, that list would soon be there
-- Oh, that list.

And is there any bottom to the fears that grow inside?
Is there any bottom to the hate that you must hide?
And is there any end to your long road of despair?
Is there any end to the pain that you must bear?

His wife and children trembled, the time was runnin' short,
When a man of law got on their side and took them into court,
And there upon the stand they could not hide behind their lies,
And the cancer of the fascist was displayed before our eyes.

Hey, you blacklist, you blacklist, I've seen what you have done.
I've seen the men you've ruined and the lives you've tried to run,
But the one thing that I've found is, the only ones you spare
Are those that do not have a brain, or those that do not care.

And you men who point your fingers and spread your lies around,
You men who left your souls behind and drag us to the ground,
You can put my name right down there, I will not try to hide --
For if there's one man on the blacklist, I'll be right there by his side.

For I'd rather go hungry to beg upon the streets
Than earn my bread on dead men's souls and crawl beneath your feet.
And I will not play your hater's game and hate you in return,
for it's only through the love of man the blacklist can be burned.

The Marching Song Of The Covert Battalions
Billy Bragg

Here we are, seeking out the Reds
Trying to keep the communists in order
Just remember when you're sleeping in your beds
They're only two days drive from the Texas border

How can a country large as ours
Be scared of such a threat
Well if they won't work for us
They're against us you can bet
They may be sovereign countries
But you folks at home forget
That they all want what we've got
But they don't know it yet

We're making the world safe for capitalism

Here we come with our candy and our guns
And our corporate muscle marches in behind us
For freedom's just another world for nothing left to sell
And if you want narcotics we can get you those as well

We help the multi-nationals
When they cry out protect us
The locals scream and shout a bit
But we don't let that affect us
We're here to lend a helping hand
In case they don't elect us
How dare they buy our products
Yet still they don't respect us

We're making the world safe for capitalism

If you thought the army
Was here protecting people like yourself
I've some news for you
We're here to defend wealth
Away with nuns and bishops
The Good Lord will help those that help themselves
I've some news for you
We're here to defend wealth

We're making the world safe for capitalism

Think Again
Dick Gaughan

Do you think that the Russians want war?
These are the parents of children who died in the last one
Do you think that it's possible, knowing their past
That they'd ever consider repeating the last
When 20 million were slaughtered by Nazi invasion?
They died fighting on our side, you know,
In a fight to defend humankind
Against Nazi terror and hatred

In the name of humanity, bitterly torn
In the name of our children as yet to be born
Before we do that which can never be undone I beg of you
Think, think again, and again and again and again and again

Do you think that the Russians want war?
They're the sons and the daughters of parents who died in the last one
Do you think that they'd want to go through that again
The destruction, the bloodshed, the suffering and pain?
In the second world war out of every 3 dead one was Russian
If we try with all of our power
Can we not find a way
To peacefully settle our difference?

Do you think that the Russians want war?
Will the voice of insanity lead you to total destruction?
Will you stumble to death as though you were blind?
Will you cause the destruction of all humankind?
Will you die because you don't like their political system?
There will be no survivors you know
No one left to scream in the night
And condemn our stupidity

special for timber ...


Verse 1:
I just got out my little red book
The minute that you said goodbye
I thumbed right through my little red book
I wasn't gonna sit and cry
And I went from a to z
I took out every pretty girl in town
They danced with me and as I held them

Chorus:
All I did was talk about you
Hear your name and I'd start to cry
There's just no getting over you... oh, no...

Verse 2:
There ain't no girl in my little red book
Who could ever replace your charms
And each girl in my little red book
Knows you're the one I'm thinkin' of
Oh won't you please come back
Without your precious love I can't go on
Where can love be I need you so much

Verse 3:
Oh won't you please come back
Without your precious love I can't go on
It's haunting me I need you so much

Chorus 3:
All I did was talk and talk about you
Hear your name and I'd start to cry
There's just no getting over you
All I did was talk and talk about you
Hear your name and I'd start to cry
There's just no getting over you... oh no

jus so i know, am i playing this game right

Yeah - I just deviated for a joke with timber. Skip that one.

part one
Lyrics by Joan Baez, Music by Ennio Morricone)

Give to me your tired and your poor
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tossed to me.

Blessed are the persecuted
And blessed are the pure in heart
Blessed are the merciful
And blessed are the ones who mourn

The step is hard that tears away the roots
And says goodbye to friends and family
The fathers and the mothers weep
The children cannot comprehend
But when there is a promised land
The brave will go and others follow
The beauty of the human spirit
Is the will to try our dreams
And so the masses teemed across the ocean
To a land of peace and hope
But no one heard a voice or saw a light
As they were tumbled onto shore
And none was welcomed by the echo of the phrase
I lift my lamp beside the golden door.

Blessed are the persecuted
And blessed are the pure in heart
Blessed are the merciful
And blessed are the ones who mourn

 1971, 1978 Edizioni Musicali RCA, S.p.A. (ASCAP)
J: Joan Baez: Joan Baez lyrics: Sacco and Vanzetti [Original Soundtrack

Thanks, edgar. S'pose you know, that's a Hal David - Burt Bachrach piece, from the early-mid '60s, if I remember correctly. Whole buncha folks covered it - Manfred Mann, Arthur Lee and Love, Golden Earing - I dunno who else. Buncha folks

And I sorta figured you'd know The Little Red Songbook real well

Father, yes, I am a prisoner
Fear not to relay my crime
The crime is loving the forsaken
Only silence is shame

And now I'll tell you what's against us
An art that's lived for centuries
Go through the years and you will find
What's blackened all of history
Against us is the law
With its immensity of strength and power
Against us is the law!
Police know how to make a man
A guilty or an innocent
Against us is the power of police!
The shameless lies that men have told
Will ever more be paid in gold
Against us is the power of the gold!
Against us is racial hatred
And the simple fact that we are poor

My father dear, I am a prisoner
Don't be ashamed to tell my crime
The crime of love and brotherhood
And only silence is shame

With me I have my love, my innocence,
The workers, and the poor
For all of this I'm safe and strong
And hope is mine
Rebellion, revolution don't need dollars
They need this instead
Imagination, suffering, light and love
And care for every human being
You never steal, you never kill
You are a part of hope and life
The revolution goes from man to man
And heart to heart
And I sense when I look at the stars
That we are children of life
Death is small

 1971, 1978 Edizioni Musicali RCA, S.p.A. (ASCAP)

When I was just a little thing
I used to love parades.
With banners, bands, red balloons,
and maybe lemonade.
When I came home one May Day,
my neighbour's father said,
"Them marchers is all commies.
Tell me kid, are you a Red?"

Well I didn't know just what he meant-
my hair back then was brown.
Our house was plain red brick-
like most others in the town.
So I went and asked my momma
why our neighbour called me red.
My mummy took me on her knee
and this is what she said,

"Well ya ain't done nothing
if ya ain't been called a Red.
If you marched or agitated,
then you're bound to hear it said.
So you might as well ignore it
or love the word instead.
Cuz ya ain't been doing nothing
if ya ain't been called a Red."

When I was growing up,
had my troubles I suppose.
When someone took exception
to my face or to my clothes.
Or tried to cheat me on the job
or hit me on the head.
When I organized to fight back,
why the stinkers called me Red

But ya ain't done nothing
if ya ain't been called a Red
if you marched or agitated,
then you're bound to hear it said.
So you might as well ignore it
or love the word instead.
Cuz ya ain't been doing nothing
if ya ain't been called a Red.

When I was living on my own,
one apartment that I had.
Had a lousy rotten landlord
Let me tell you he was bad.
But when he tried to throw me out,
I rubbed my hands and said,
"You haven't seen a struggle
if you haven't fought a Red!"

And ya ain't done nothing
if ya ain't been called a Red.
If you marched or agitated,
then you're bound to hear it said.
So you might as well ignore it
or love the word instead.
Cuz ya ain't been doing nothing
if ya ain't been called a Red.

part three
My son, instead of crying be strong
Be brave and comfort your mother
Don't cry for the tears are wasted
Let not also the years be wasted

Forgive me, son, for this unjust death
Which takes your father from your side
Forgive me all who are my friends
I am with you, so do not cry

If mother wants to be distracted
From the sadness and the soulness
You take her for a walk
Along the quiet country
And rest beneath the shade of trees
Where here and there you gather flowers
Beside the music and the water
Is the peacefulness of nature
She will enjoy it very much
And surely you'll enjoy it too
But son, you must remember
Do not use it all yourself
But down yourself one little step
To help the weak ones by your side

Forgive me, son, for this unjust death
Which takes your father from your side
Forgive me all who are my friends
I am with you, so do not cry

The weaker ones that cry for help
The persecuted and the victim
They are your friends
And comrades in the fight
And yes, they sometimes fall
Just like your father
Yes, your father and Bartolo
They have fallen
And yesterday they fought and fell
But in the quest for joy and freedom
And in the struggle of this life you'll find
That there is love and sometimes more
Yes, in the struggle you will find
That you can love and be loved also

Forgive me all who are my friends
I am with you
I beg of you, do not cry

 1971, 1978 Edizioni Musicali RCA, S.p.A. (ASCAP)
J: Joan

Fat and docile, big and dumb
They look so stupid, they aren't much fun
Cows aren't fun

They eat to grow, grow to die
Die to be et at the hamburger fry
Cows well done

Nobody thunk it, nobody knew
No one imagined the great cow guru
Cows are one

He hid in the forest, read books with great zeal
He loved Che Guevera, a revolutionary veal
Cow Tse Tongue

He spoke about justice, but nobody stirred
He felt like an outcast, alone in the herd
Cow doldrums

He mooed we must fight, escape or we'll die
Cows gathered around, cause the steaks were so high
Bad cow pun

But then he was captured, stuffed into a crate
Loaded onto a truck, where he rode to his fate
Cows are bummed

He was a scrawny calf, who looked rather woozy
No one suspected he was packing an Uzi
Cows with guns

They came with a needle to stick in his thigh
He kicked for the groin, he pissed in their eye
Cow well hung

Knocked over a tractor and ran for the door
Six gallons of gas flowed out on the floor
Run cows run!

He picked up a bullhorn and jumped up on the hay
We are free roving bovines, we run free today

We will fight for bovine Cfreedom
And hold our large heads high
We will run free with the Buffalo, or die
Cows with guns

They crashed the gate in a great stampede
Tipped over a milk truck, torched all the feed
Cows have fun

Sixty police cars were piled in a heap
Covered in cow pies, covered up deep
Much cow dung

Black smoke rising, darkening the day
Twelve burning McDonalds, have it your way

We will fight for bovine freedom
And hold our large heads high
We will run free with the

I could post The Little Red Songbook, but I don't think so.

@ edgar

Hey, Dyslexia, I beat ya to that one, partner - back on the 1st page :wink:

Goin' back to the vein of the Dylan piece edgar opened with, here's one thats sorta seasonal

Joe McCarthy's Coming to Town
Joe Glazer

You'd better beware, you'd better be good,
You'd better do only the things that you should.
Joe McCarthy's coming to town.

He'll call you a pink, he'll call you a red,
He'll drive every liberal thought from your head.
Joe McCarthy's coming to town.

He knows when you're subversive, he knows each move you make;
His gumshow boys are watching, so be good for McCarthy's sake.

So you'd better play safe, don't talk and don't read,
Don't write and don't join if you want to succeed.
Joe McCarthy's coming to town.

If you've got a book whose cover is red,
When you start to read look under the bed,
Cause Joe McCarthy's coming to town.

If you go to church to pray or to wed,
You'd better make sure that the preacher's not red,
Cause Joe McCarthy's coming to town.

Now if you are a teacher and you want to get ahead,
Don't mention Thomas Jefferson, talk about Joe McCarthy instead.

So, you'd better play safe, don't talk and don't read,
Don't write and don't join, if you want to succeed,
Joe McCarthy's coming to town.

Be careful who your friends are, be careful what you say.
Don't be too controversial, or McCarthy will get you some day.

So, get rid of your brains and you'll never go wrong,
You'll always be safely sailing along,
When Joe McCarthy's coming to town

I Like Hitler
By Phil Ochs


I like Hitler, Jolly Jolly Hitler
I like Hitler and Mussolini too

I like Franco in Spain
And I'll have to maintain
That Batista was
Really quite all right

Trujillo was my man
Henry Ford/Hendrik Verwoerd would understand
What this country
really needs is apartheid

Loyally we Birch along
Birch along, Birch along
Loyaly we Birch along
Back to the good old days

God save the king


Notes:
"There's supposedly a wave of conservatism sweeping the country (sounds familar) and as the groups move farther and farther to the right, they find fewer and fewer songs that can be sung by people or groups as a whole...and when they finally arrive, I'd like to...I wrote this song for them, so they can sing when they get together." -- Phil Ochs

About the Henry Ford reference: "Along with making Model-T Fords, he set a Jew hating tone which helped inspire Hitler's rise to power." --- Dave Appelbaum. [Check out David Rovics' song Henry Ford was a Fascist]

Rob Geller tels me that the reference to "Henry Ford" is really a misheard reference to Hendrik Verwoerd who ``was the prime minister of South Africa in the early '60s and is widely considered "the architect of apartheid." He was a Nazi sympathizer who promoted the science of eugenics and laws modeled after Germany's "racial purity" laws. Verwoerd was stabbed to death by an assassin in 1966 and today is the hero of the white seperatist movement in South Africa. While it's important to remember Henry Ford's contribution to the Fascist cause, Phil was casting his eye on the heroes of international Fascism when he wrote this song.''click here for web page

ok timberland try this one:
I was standing on the sidewalk, had a noise in my head.
There were loudspeakers babbling, but nothing was said.
There were twenty-seven companies of female Marines.
There were presidential candidates in new Levis jeans.
It was the red, white and blue planning how to endure.
The fife, drum and bugle marching down on the poor.
God blessed America, without any doubt.
And I figured it was time to get out.
Well I actively blended between scenes, good people.
When in doubt, a dawn in the sun, good people.
Tourist information said to get on the stick.
You ain't moving 'til you're grooving with a Cubana chick.
So I hopped on a plane, I took a pill for my brain,
and I discovered I was feeling alright.
When I strolled down the Prado, people looked at me wierd.
Who's that hippy, hoppy character without any beard?
Drinking juice from papayas, singing songs to the trees.
Dancing mambo on the beaches, spreading social disease.
Now the Castro convertible was changing the style,
a whole lot of action on a blockaded isle.
When along come a summons in the middle of ight,
saying, "Buddy, we're about to indict."
Well, I went up on the stand with my hand, good people.
You've got to tell the truth, in the blue, good people.
I started out with information kind of remote.
When a patriotic mother dragged me down by the throat. "
When they ask you a question, they expect a reply!"
Doesn't matter if your fixin' to die.
I was lying there unconscious feeling kind of exempt.
When the judge said that silence was a kind of contempt.
He took out is gavel, banged me hard on the head.
He fined me ten years in prison, and a whole lot of bread.
It was the red, white and blue making war on the poor.
Lying mother justice, on a pile of manure.
Say your prayers and the Pledge of Allegiance every night.
And tomorrow, you'll be feeling alright.

Rick and Mimi - OK, I can do that:

Pack Up Your Sorrows
R. Farina and P. Marden

No use crying, talkin to a stranger
Naming the sorrow you've seen
Too many sad times, too many bad times
Nobody knows what you mean

But if somehow you could pack up your sorrows
And give them all to me
You would loose them, I know how to use them
Give them all to me

No use rambling, walking in the shadows
Trailing a wandering star
No one beside you, no one to hide you
And nobody knows who you are

No use gambling, running in the darkness
Looking for a spirit that's free
Too many long times, too many wrong times
And nobody knows what you see

No use roaming, lying by the roadside
Seeking a satisfied mind
Too many highways, too many byways
And nobody's walking behind