Saturday, March 9, 2013
Monday, March 4, 2013
George Jackson
Bob Dylan, George Jackson (1971)
I woke up this mornin',
There were tears in my bed.
They killed a man I really loved
Shot him through the head.
Lord, Lord,
They cut George Jackson down.
Lord, Lord,
They laid him in the ground.
Sent him off to prison
For a seventy-dollar robbery.
Closed the door behind him
And they threw away the key.
Lord, Lord,
They cut George Jackson down.
Lord, Lord,
They laid him in the ground.
He wouldn't take shit from no one
He wouldn't bow down or kneel.
Authorities, they hated him
Because he was just too real.
Lord, Lord,
They cut George Jackson down.
Lord, Lord,
They laid him in the ground.
Prison guards, they cursed him
As they watched him from above
But they were frightened of his power
They were scared of his love.
Lord, Lord,
So they cut George Jackson down.
Lord, Lord,
They laid him in the ground.
Sometimes I think this whole world
Is one big prison yard.
Some of us are prisoners
The rest of us are guards.
Lord, Lord,
They cut George Jackson down.
Lord, Lord,
They laid him in the ground.
Buffalo Soldier
Bob Marley (Buffalo Soldier)
Buffalo soldier, dreadlock rasta:
There was a buffalo soldier in the heart of America,
Stolen from Africa, brought to America,
Fighting on arrival, fighting for survival.
I mean it, when I analyze the stench -
To me it makes a lot of sense:
How the dreadlock rasta was the buffalo soldier,
And he was taken from africa, brought to America,
Fighting on arrival, fighting for survival.
Said he was a buffalo soldier, dreadlock rasta -
Buffalo soldier in the heart of America.
If you know your history,
Then you would know where you coming from,
Then you wouldn’t have to ask me,
Who the ’eck do I think I am.
I’m just a buffalo soldier in the heart of America,
Stolen from Africa, brought to America,
Said he was fighting on arrival, fighting for survival;
Said he was a buffalo soldier win the war for America.
Dreadie, woy yoy yoy, woy yoy-yoy yoy,
Woy yoy yoy yoy, yoy yoy-yoy yoy!
Woy yoy yoy, woy yoy-yoy yoy,
Woy yoy yoy yoy, yoy yoy-yoy yoy!
Buffalo soldier troddin’ through the land, wo-ho-ooh!
Said he wanna ran, then you wanna hand,
Troddin’ through the land, yea-hea, yea-ea.
Said he was a buffalo soldier win the war for America;
Buffalo soldier, dreadlock rasta,
Fighting on arrival, fighting for survival;
Driven from the mainland to the heart of the Caribbean.
Troddin’ through San Juan in the arms of America;
Troddin’ through Jamaica, a buffalo soldier -
Fighting on arrival, fighting for survival:
Buffalo soldier, dreadlock rasta.
Freedom Riders
Freedom Riders, Phil Ochs (1962)
Jackson, Mississippi, is a mighty white town,
the white folks they like to keep the black folks down
they think they'll be allright, but there's gonna be a fight
and they'll have to share that freedom crown,
yes, they'll have to share that freedom crown.
Freedom Riders roll along
Freedom Riders won't be long
won't be long.
They boarded a bus in Washington D.C.
to enter a state half slave and half free
the wheels hummed a song and they sang along
the song of liberty, the song of liberty.
Jimmy Farmer was a hard fightin' man
decided one day that he had to make a stand
he led them down to slavery town
and they threw Jim Farmer in the can
and they threw Jim Farmer in the can.
One of these days and it won't be long
the solid South is gonna sing another song
They'll understand that a man's not a man
'til he has all the freedoms of the land.
Monday, December 24, 2012
Christmas Poems
The Three Kings
by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Three Kings came riding from far away,
Melchior and Gaspar and Baltasar;
Three Wise Men out of the East were they,
And they travelled by night and they slept by day,
For their guide was a beautiful, wonderful star.
The star was so beautiful, large and clear,
That all the other stars of the sky
Became a white mist in the atmosphere,
And by this they knew that the coming was near
Of the Prince foretold in the prophecy.
Three caskets they bore on their saddle-bows,
Three caskets of gold with golden keys;
Their robes were of crimson silk with rows
Of bells and pomegranates and furbelows,
Their turbans like blossoming almond-trees.
And so the Three Kings rode into the West,
Through the dusk of the night, over hill and dell,
And sometimes they nodded with beard on breast,
And sometimes talked, as they paused to rest,
With the people they met at some wayside well.
"Of the child that is born," said Baltasar,
"Good people, I pray you, tell us the news;
For we in the East have seen his star,
And have ridden fast, and have ridden far,
To find and worship the King of the Jews."
And the people answered, "You ask in vain;
We know of no King but Herod the Great!"
They thought the Wise Men were men insane,
As they spurred their horses across the plain,
Like riders in haste, who cannot wait.
And when they came to Jerusalem,
Herod the Great, who had heard this thing,
Sent for the Wise Men and questioned them;
And said, "Go down unto Bethlehem,
And bring me tidings of this new king."
So they rode away; and the star stood still,
The only one in the grey of morn;
Yes, it stopped --it stood still of its own free will,
Right over Bethlehem on the hill,
The city of David, where Christ was born.
And the Three Kings rode through the gate and the guard,
Through the silent street, till their horses turned
And neighed as they entered the great inn-yard;
But the windows were closed, and the doors were barred,
And only a light in the stable burned.
And cradled there in the scented hay,
In the air made sweet by the breath of kine,
The little child in the manger lay,
The child, that would be king one day
Of a kingdom not human, but divine.
His mother Mary of Nazareth
Sat watching beside his place of rest,
Watching the even flow of his breath,
For the joy of life and the terror of death
Were mingled together in her breast.
They laid their offerings at his feet:
The gold was their tribute to a King,
The frankincense, with its odor sweet,
Was for the Priest, the Paraclete,
The myrrh for the body's burying.
And the mother wondered and bowed her head,
And sat as still as a statue of stone,
Her heart was troubled yet comforted,
Remembering what the Angel had said
Of an endless reign and of David's throne.
Then the Kings rode out of the city gate,
With a clatter of hoofs in proud array;
But they went not back to Herod the Great,
For they knew his malice and feared his hate,
And returned to their homes by another way.
The Greatest Birthday
by Udiah (witness to Yah)
'Glory to God in the highest
And on earth peace good will toward men'
Born unto a virgin was God's only begotten Son
Emmanuel (God with us) is the title of The One
Mary's father was of Judah, the linage of a king
Mary's mother was a Levite, from Aaron's priestly string
The world beheld a brilliant star a shining in the east
The sign of Christ, The King of Kings, Lord of Lords, and High Priest
'Glory to God in the highest
And on earth peace good will toward men'
Shepherds in the field keeping watch over their flock at night
The angel of the Lord appeared and gave them such a fright
'Fear not: for behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy'
For unto you is born this day, a Saviour, Christ the Roi
The Babe is wrapped in swaddling clothes, a lying in the hay
Heavenly host gave praise to God on the greatest birthday
'Glory to God in the highest
And on earth peace good will toward men'
(Luke 1: 5-36,2: 6-14,3: 23-38)
Tuesday, August 21, 2012
Monday, August 20, 2012
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