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Subject: Re: [newmellotrongroup] Re: Singer

From: lsf5275@aol.com
Date: 2008-03-17

Gee, I always thought that these were some pretty good rock lyrics:
 
Long as I remember The rain been comin' down.
Clouds of myst'ry pourin' Confusion on the ground.
Good men through the ages, Tryin' to find the sun;
And I wonder, Still I wonder, Who'll stop the rain.
I went down Virginia, Seekin' shelter from the storm.
Caught up in the fable, I watched the tower grow.
Five year plans and new deals, Wrapped in golden chains.
And I wonder, Still I wonder, Who'll stop the rain.

Heard the singers playin', How we cheered for more.
The crowd had rushed together, Tryin' to keep warm.
Still the rain kept pourin', Fallin' on my ears.
And I wonder, Still I wonder Who'll stop the rain.
 
 
These too:

Some folks are born
made to wave the flag,
Ooh, they're red, white and blue.
And when the band plays "Hail to the chief",
they point the cannon right at you.

It ain't me,
it ain't me.
I ain't no senator's son.
It ain't me,
it ain't me.
I ain't no fortunate one.

Some folks are born
silver spoon in hand,
Lord don't they help themselves.
But when the tax man comes to the door,
Lord, the house looks like a rummage sale.

It ain't me,
it ain't me.
I ain't no millionaire's son.
It ain't me,
it ain't me.
I ain't no fortunate one.

Some folks inherit
star spangled eyes,
Ooh, they send you down to war.
And when you ask them,
"How much should we give?"
They only answer "More! More! More!"

It ain't me,
it ain't me.
I ain't no military son.
It ain't me,
it ain't me.
I ain't no fortunate one.

It ain't me,
 
And I like these too:
 
Here in northeast Ohio, back in eighteen-o-three
James and Dean Heaton found the ore that was linin' yellow creek
They built a blast furnace here along the shore
And they made the cannonballs that helped the Union win the war

Here in Youngstown, here in Youngstown
My sweet Jenny I’m sinkin' down, here darlin' in Youngstown

Well my daddy worked the furnaces, kept them hotter than hell
I come home from Nam worked my way to scarfer, a job that’d suit the devil as well
Taconite coke and limestone fed my children and made my pay
Them smokestacks reached like the arms of god into a beautiful sky of soot and clay

Here in Youngstown, here in Youngstown
My sweet Jenny I’m sinkin' down, here darlin' in Youngstown

Well my daddy come home from Ohio works when he came home from World War 2
Now the yard’s just scrap and scrubble
He said: "Them big boys did what Hitler couldn’t do"
These mills they built the tanks and bombs that won these country’s wars
We sent our sons to Korea and Vietnam now we’re wonderin' what they were dyin’ for

Here in Youngstown, here in Youngstown
My sweet Jenny I’m sinkin' down, here darlin' in Youngstown

From the Monongahela valley to the Mesabi iron range
To the coal mines of Appalachia the story’s always the same
Seven hundred tons of metal a day now sir you tell me the world’s changed
Once I made you rich enough rich enough to forget my name

And Youngstown, and Youngstown
My sweet Jenny I’m sinkin' down, here darlin' in Youngstown

When I die I don’t want no part of heaven, I would not do heaven’s work well
I pray the devil comes and takes me to stand in the fiery furnaces of hell
 
Protest songs, one and all. Two are nearly forty years old, the last, not so old.
 
Rock music has always been the voice of generations.




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