Şahane Şarkılar, Şahane Lirikler

Here's to the State of Mississippi

Here's to the state of Mississippi,
For Underheath her borders, the devil draws no lines,
If you drag her muddy river, nameless bodies you will find.
Whoa the fat trees of the forest have hid a thousand crimes,
The calender is lyin' when it reads the present time.
Whoa here's to the land you've torn out the heart of,
Mississippi find yourself another country to be part of!

Here's to the people of Mississippi
Who say the folks up north, they just don't understand
And they tremble in their shadows at the thunder of the Klan
The sweating of their souls can't wash the blood from off their hands
They smile and shrug their shoulders at the murder of a man
Oh, here's to the land you've torn out the heart of
Mississippi find yourself another country to be part of

Here's to the schools of Mississippi
Where they're teaching all the children that they don't have to care
All of rudiments of hatred are present everywhere
And every single classroom is a factory of despair
There's nobody learning such a foreign word as fair
Oh, here's to the land you've torn out the heart of
Mississippi find yourself another country to be part of

Here's to the cops of Mississippi
They're chewing their tobacco as they lock the prison door
Their bellies bounce inside them as they knock you to the floor
No they don't like taking prisoners in their private little war
Behind their broken badges there are murderers and more
Oh, here's to the land you've torn out the heart of
Mississippi find yourself another country to be part of

And, here's to the judges of Mississippi
Who wear the robe of honor as they crawl into the court
They're guarding all the bastions with their phony legal fort
Oh, justice is a stranger when the prisoners report
When the black man stands accused the trial is always short
Oh, here's to the land you've torn out the heart of
Mississippi find yourself another country to be part of

And here's to the government of Mississippi
In the swamp of their bureaucracy they're always bogging down
And criminals are posing as the mayors of the towns
They're hoping that no one sees the sights and hears the sounds
And the speeches of the governor are the ravings of a clown
Oh, here's to the land you've torn out the heart of
Mississippi find yourself another country to be part of

And here's to the laws of Mississippi
Congressmen will gather in a circus of delay
While the Constitution is drowning in an ocean of decay
Unwed mothers should be sterilized, I've even heard them say
Yes, corruption can be classic in the Mississippi way
Oh, here's to the land you've torn out the heart of
Mississippi find yourself another country to be part of

And here's to the churches of Mississippi
Where the cross, once made of silver, now is caked with rust
And the Sunday morning sermons pander to their lust
The fallen face of Jesus is choking in the dust
Heaven only knows in which God they can trust
Oh, here's to the land you've torn out the heart of
Mississippi find yourself another country to be part of


I Ain't Marching Anymore

Oh, I marched to the battle of New Orleans,
At the end of the early British wars.
The young land started growing,
The young blood started flowing.
But I ain't a-marching anymore!

Oh I killed my share of Injuns in a thousand different fights,
I was there at the Little Big Horn.
I heard many men a-lying,
I saw many more a-dying.
But I ain't a-marching anymore!

It's always the old to lead us to the wars,
Always the young to fall.
Now look at what we've won with a saber and a gun.
Tell me is it worth it all?

For I stole California from the Mexican land,
Fought in the bloody Civil War.
Yes, I even killed my brothers,
And so many others.
But I ain't a-marching anymore!

For I marched to the battle of the German trench,
In a war that was bound to end all wars.
Oh I must have killed a million men,
And now they want me back again.
But I ain't a-marching anymore!

It's always the old to lead us to the wars,
Always the young to fall.
Now look at what we've won with a saber and a gun.
Tell me is it worth it all?

For I flew the final mission in the Japanese sky,
Set off the mighty mushroom roar.
But I saw the cities burnin',
And I knew that I was learnin',
That I ain't a-marching anymore!

Now the labor leader's screamin' when they closed the missile plant,
United Fruit screams at the Cuban shore.
Call it peace or call it treason,
Call it love or call it reason.
But I ain't a-marching anymore!
I ain't a-marching anymore!

Phil Ochs