Guthrie's Machine: the Protest Music Thread

Took a walk in my neighborhood
Two in the morning
By the Skytrain Station

The streets were full of junkies and homeless
And they all wanted something
They all wanted something

And what am I supposed to do?
There are too many of you
Too many of you

Yeah, sometimes look you in the eye
Say that, “I too am human, I could easily be you”

Although we all hover between apathy and compassion
We fill up all our days with so much distraction
What makes it easier not to see what we don’t want to

But we all live here
We all live here
We all live, don’t we?

Took a walk in my neighborhood
Two in the morning
By the Skytrain Station

The streets were full of junkies and homeless
And they all wanted something
They all wanted something

And what am I supposed to do?
There are too many of you
Too many of you

Yeah, sometimes look you in the eye
Say that, "I too am human, I could easily be you”
”I could easily be you, I could easily be you”

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Anytime you beg another man to set you free
You’ll never be free
Freedom is something that you have to do for yourself
This is why I say this is the ballot or the bullet
It’s liberty or death
It’s freedom for everybody or freedom for nobody

Freedom
Your public service died, death to World Bank and IMF; is it
Freedom?
The kleptocracy orchestrated, subjugate the corporate state that isn’t
Freedom
Theresa’s a terrorist, we could be standing at the precipice of
Freedom

Pontificate, Philosophise
Cross the T’s, dot the I’s
I heard em’ say the revolution won’t be monetized
But it could be wrapped up, packaged and commodified
In this poisonous equation, I wonder what am I?
Tax dodging tabloids, profit from these horrid lies
Peddle patriotism but economically colonise
Sycophants, grippin’ flags, tell you that they’re on your side
Sell off your services abroad, who do they prioritise?
Robin Hood in reverse, these robberies aren’t secrets
Bonuses for bankers and backhanders for arms dealers
Can’t cage the alternative that now exists
With the skill of an alchemist, turn pain into empowerment
Inspired to be alive, in this powerful moment
No more will these cowards sell us out to their donors
We rose, like a giant awoken out of this coma
Confront the culture of power with the power of culture!!!
We sing

Freedom!
Your public service died, death to World Bank and IMF; is it
Freedom?!
The kleptocracy orchestrated, subjugate the corporate state that isn’t
Freedom!
Theresa’s a terrorist, we could be standing at the precipice of
Freedom!

History favours the trail blazers
The taste for change is contagious
It’s not strange these faceless takers are afraid of raising wages
When the same major papers say that we should hate our neighbours
Then when the rage cascades
These sadists claim that their blameless
What is clear, some don’t even pay taxes on their profits here
Wrote against the interests of Murdoch and Rothermere
Not conspiracy theory, conspiracy actuality
Until now politics, merely a practicality
They deify celebrity
What happens when no celebrities turn and you say it plunders no necessity
I don’t condemn the deified but mourn those whose brilliant as them who died
Potential unrealised
Atomisation had us
Distant and deafened
Now we’re interconnected, independent but interdependant
We rose, like a giant awoken out of a coma
Confront the culture of power with the power of culture!
We sing!

Freedom!
Your public service died, death to World Bank and IMF; is it
Freedom?!
The kleptocracy orchestrated, subjugate the corporate state that isn’t
Freedom!
Theresa’s a terrorist, we could be standing at the precipice of
Freedom!

2 Likes

Oldie, but goodie:

Earwormy.

Hey, you
We got your war
We’re at the gates
We’re at your door
Hey, you
We got your war
We’re at the gates
We’re at your door

We got the guillotine
We got the guillotine, you better run
We got the guillotine
We got the guillotine, you better run
We got the guillotine
We got the guillotine, you better run
We got the guillotine
We got the guillotine, you better run

We wanna thank you for flyin with us
We know you coulda stayed home, just cried and cussed
May all your guns go off if it’s time to bust
May all their tanks have time to rust
They got the armies turnin bullets into gold
They got the hookers turnin tricks in the cold
And everytime the police kicks in the do
An angel gas-brakes-dips in The O
And even if a D-boy flips him a O
It ain’t enough to buy shit anymo
Sleep in the doorway, piss on the floor
Look in the sky wait for missiles to show
It’s finna blow, cuz
They got the TV- we got the truth
They own the judges and we got the proof
We got hella people- they got helicopters
They got the bombs and we got the- we got the

We got the guillotine
We got the guillotine, you better run
We got the guillotine
We got the guillotine, you better run
We got the guillotine
We got the guillotine, you better run
We got the guillotine
We got the guillotine, you better run

Don’t talk about, it’s not a show
Be about it, it’s bout to blow
Don’t talk about, it’s not a show
Be about it, it’s bout to blow

I just spit the dope lines
I don’t snort em
Tell the boss to call police to escort him
You don’t write all them lies, you just quote em
Get offline, plug in to this modem
No you can’t out-vote em
The rules are still golden
Only jewels we holdin
is if we guardin our scrotum
If you press your ear to the turf that is stolen
You can hear the sound of limitations explodin
Please, sir, may we have another portion?
We’re children of the beast that dodged the abortion
Neck placed firm tween the floor and their florsheim
We’ll shut your shit down- don’t call it extortion
Caution- we’re coming for your head
So call the feds and get files to shred
Every textbook read said bring you the bread
But guess what we got you instead

We got the guillotine
We got the guillotine, you better run
We got the guillotine
We got the guillotine, you better run
We got the guillotine
We got the guillotine, you better run
We got the guillotine
We got the guillotine, you better run

Let’s keep it bangin like a shotgun
We’re in a war before we fought one
Now if you’re tired of workin so they can play-
A common enemy, we got one
Now keep it bangin like a shotgun
We’re in a war before we fought one
Now if you’re tired of workin so they can play-
A common enemy, we got one

Don’t talk about, it’s not a show
Be about it, it’s bout to blow
Don’t talk about, it’s not a show
Be about it, it’s bout to blow

1 Like

https://youtu.be/00G1mS_fGWA

In a building of gold, with riches untold,
lived the families on which the country was founded.
And the merchants of style, with their vain velvet smiles,
were there, for they also were hounded.
And the soft middle class crowded in to the last,
for the building was fully surrounded.
And the noise outside was the ringing of revolution.

Sadly they stared and sank in their chairs
and searched for a comforting notion.
And the rich silver walls looked ready to fall
As they shook in doubtful devotion.
The ice cubes would clink as they freshened their drinks,
wet their minds in bitter emotion.
And they talked about the ringing of revolution.

We were hardly aware of the hardships they beared,
for our time was taken with treasure.
Oh, life was a game, and work was a shame,
And pain was prevented by pleasure.
The world, cold and grey, was so far away
In the distance only money could measure.
But their thoughts were broken by the ringing of revolution.

And the clouds filled the room in darkening doom
as the crooked smoke rings were rising.
How long will it take, how can we escape
Someone asks, but no one’s advising.
And the quivering floor responds to the roar,
In a shake no longer surprising.
As closer and closer comes the ringing of revolution.

So softly they moan, please leave us alone
As back and forth they are pacing.
And they cover their ears and try not to hear
With pillows of silk they’re embracing.
The crackling crowd is laughing out loud,
peeking in at the target they’re chasing.
Now trembling inside the ringing of revolution.

With compromise sway we gave in half way
When we saw that rebellion was growing.
Now everything’s lost as they kneel by the cross
Where the blood of christ is still flowing.
To late for their sorrow they’ve reached their tomorrow
and reaped the seed they were sowing.
Now harvested by the ringing of revolution.

In tattered tuxedos they faced the new heroes
and crawled about in confusion.
And they sheepishly grinned for their memories were dim
of the decades of dark execution.
Hollow hands raised; they stood there amazed
in the shattering of their illusions.
As the windows were smashed by the ringing of revolution.

Down on our knees we’re begging you please,
We’re sorry for the way you were driven.
There’s no need to taunt just take what you want,
and we’ll make amends, if we’re living.
But away from the grounds the flames told the town
that only the dead are forgiven.
As they vanished inside the ringing of revolution.

There’s a green plaid jacket on the back of the chair
It’s like a moment frozen forever there
Mom and Dad had a lot of big plans for their little man
So proud

Mama’s gone crazy 'cause her baby’s cut down
By some teenage car chase, war out of bounds
It was the wrong place, wrong time, wrong end of a gun
Sad

(Shoot)
Shoot straight
(Shoot)
From the hip, ya’ll
(Shoot)
Gone forever in a trigger slip
Well, it could have been
It could have been your brother

(Shoot)
Shoot straight
(Shoot)
Shoot to kill, yeah
Blame each other, well, blame yourself
You know, God is a bullet
Have mercy on us everyone

They’re gonna call me sir, they’ll all stop picking on me
Well, I’m a high school grad, I’m over five-foot-three
I’ll get a badge and a gun and I’ll join the P.D.
They’ll see

He didn’t have to use the gun they put in his hand
But when the guy came at him, well, he panicked and ran
And it’s a thirty long years 'fore they’ll give him another chance
And it’s sad, sad, yes, sad

(Shoot)
Shoot straight
(Shoot)
From the hip, ya’ll
(Shoot)
It’s all gone in a trigger slip
Well, it could have been
It could have been your mother

(Shoot)
Shoot straight
(Shoot)
Shoot to kill, ya’ll
Blame each other, blame yourself
You know, God is a bullet
Have mercy on us everyone

(Shoot)
Shoot straight
(Shoot)
From the hip, ya’ll
(Shoot)
Gone forever in a trigger slip
Well, it could have been
It could have been your mother

(Shoot)
John Lennon
(Shoot)
Dr. King, yeah
Harvey Milk, and all for goddamn nothing
God is a bullet
Have mercy on us everyone
God is a bullet
Have mercy on us everyone.

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Here’s a couple of contemporary protest songs to chew on for a bit.

Lyrics (not reposting here due to repeated use of the n-word):

Lyrics (also not reposting here due to repeated use of the n-word):

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That is a flat-out awesome album. One of my absolute favourites.

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Another hearse roll up slow,
Carry one more poor lost soul,
Carry them things every single day
Cause it makes him feel safe
Cause he carry on them ways, screw face
Love the game-reppin’ his estate,
Talk tough look straight in his face,
Carrying deep pain self-hate,
Carry fam, so he carry weight,
It’s logical daddy got carried away,
Not married away, just didn’t stay
Coward carried his son to this fate,
His boys carrying weight in a wooden box can’t stand straight,
They was getting outta the game,
But look fate she don’t wait
Now the woman in the front row, her face t show no pain,
But her brain went insane on the day the news came,
Stare into space, face numb,
The boy getting carried, she carried 9 months

When this world strip me naked, I turn and I face it,
And really believe I have the strength to change it,
I’m crazy, it’s blatant sometimes I get carried away
When this world strip me naked, I turn and I face it,
And really believe I have the strength to change it,
I’m crazy, it’s blatant sometimes I get carried away

One more body bag getting carried back,
From the war zone where they carry straps,
Where little kids is attacking tanks cause they carry no fear of the man,
All they know here is they land
And a hero, gotta make a stand,
So they roll cold with it in their hand,
Let bang on the big bad man,
But this particular soldier never move colder
Never enrolled to blow no homes up
Felt that life had carried him under
Chose to phone the number
The army gives you training,
Nothing they say could really explain it,
Sign them t papers, enslavement,
Now you’re a tool to carry their hatred,
Rob, steal, strip a nation
All he wanted was qualifications
So he could carry his family places,
Better than those that he was raised in
Never really thought, he’d ever have to go to war,
Now who’s gonna tell his kids daddy can’t carry them no more

When this world strip me naked, I turn and I face it,
And really believe I have the strength to change it,
I’m crazy, it’s blatant sometimes I get carried away
When this world strip me naked, I turn and I face it,
And really believe I have the strength to change it,
I’m crazy, it’s blatant sometimes I get carried away

This year in my garden I grow peppers and tomatoes
Peppers and tomatoes, they grow together well
And my neighbors all around me they grow beans and potatoes
Cabbages and onions in this village where we dwell

And later in the year we will bring wine to the table
Bring wine to the table and reap what we have sown
Like my father did before and his father did before him
And his father did before him, we will share what we have grown

This little patch of dirt, this little pile of stones
I can wash the dust from off my face and skin
But this earth is in my bones

Military vehicles are passing through our village
Passing through our village with young soldiers ill at ease
Unsmiling and unshaven, distrustful and uncertain
Distrustful and uncertain and all smoking constantly

And my neighbors say, "Don’t worry for you are one of us
You are one of us and it will not happen here"
But the next night at the cafe when I bring wine to the table
When I bring wine to the table but they are sitting drinking beer

Last night the hand of friendship fell heavy on my shoulders
Heavy on my shoulders as I turned away to go
As I said goodnight some old men, some old men and young soldiers
Were humming tunes and singing words to songs that I did not know

Oh, this little patch of dirt and this little pile of stones
I can wash the dust from off my face and skin
But this earth is in my bones

This morning my wife told me that she’d been to church on Sunday
Been to church on Sunday, she had felt the need to pray
Our children were baptized there but it was just to please the old ones
Just to please the old ones and I don’t know what to say

Tonight as dark is falling, I am tending to my garden
Tending to my garden and the crop that I have grown
And my car is heavy laden and soon I’ll start the engine
Soon I’ll start the engine, wake the children and be gone

Oh, this little patch of dirt and this little pile of stones
I can wash the dust from off my face and skin
But this earth is in my bones

My shotgun it is loaded and it’s hidden in the cabin
It’s hidden in the cabin and the evening’s growing chilled
My mouth is dry, my hands are ■■■■■ and if someone tries to stop me
Someone tries to stop me, I am ready now to kill

Oh, this little patch of dirt and this little pile of stones
I can wash the dust from off my face and skin
But this earth is in my bones

I am watering my garden when I smell the cigarette smoke
Smell the cigarette smoke and I turn round in the dust
And I see the glint of rifles but I cannot see the faces
But I recognize the voices that say, “You must come with us”

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Well I heard it on the radio
And I saw it on the television
Back in 1988, all those talking politicians

Words are easy, words are cheap
Much cheaper than our priceless land
But promises can disappear
Just like writing in the sand

Treaty yeah treaty now treaty yeah treaty now

Nhima djatpangarri nhima walangwalang (You dance djatpangarri, that’s better)
Nhe djatpayatpa nhima gaya’ nhe marrtjini yakarray (You’re dancing, you improvise, you keep going, wow)
Nhe djatpa nhe walang gumurrt jararrk gutjuk (You dance djatpangarri, that’s good my dear grandson)

This land was never given up
This land was never bought and sold
The planting of the union jack
Never changed our law at all
Now two river run their course
Separated for so long
I’m dreaming of a brighter day
When the waters will be one

Treaty yeah, treaty now, treaty yeah, treaty now

Nhima gayakaya nhe gaya’ nhe (You improvise, you improvise)
Nhe gaya’ nhe marrtjini walangwalang nhe ya (You improvise, you keep going, you’re better)
Nhima djatpa nhe walang (You dance djatpangarri, that’s good)
Gumurr-djararrk yawirriny’ (My dear young men)
Nhe gaya’ nhe marrtjini gaya’ nhe marrtjini (You improvise, you keep improvising, you keep going)
Gayakaya nhe gaya’ nhe marrtjini walangwalang (Improvise, you improvise, you keep going, that’s better)
Nhima djatpa nhe walang (You dance djatpangarri, that’s good)
Gumurr-djararrk nhe yå, e i, e i, e i i i, i i i, i i i, i i (You dear things)

Treaty ma’ (Treaty now)

Promises disappear - priceless land - destiny
Well I heard it on the radio
And I saw it on the television
But promises can be broken
Just like writing in the sand

Treaty yeah treaty now treaty yeah treaty now
Treaty yeah treaty now treaty yeah treaty now
Treaty yeah treaty ma treaty yeah treaty ma
Treaty yeah treaty ma treaty yeah treaty ma

You will not be able to stay home, brother.
You will not be able to plug in, turn on and cop out.
You will not be able to lose yourself on skag and
skip out for beer during commercials,
Because the revolution will not be televised.
The revolution will not be televised.

The revolution will not be brought to you by Xerox
In 4 parts without commercial interruptions.
The revolution will not show you pictures of Nixon
blowing a bugle and leading a charge by John
Mitchell, General Abrams and Spiro Agnew to eat
hog maws confiscated from a Harlem sanctuary.
The revolution will not be televised.
The revolution will not be brought to you by the
Schaefer Award Theatre and will not star Natalie
Woods and Steve McQueen or Bullwinkle and Julia.
The revolution will not give your mouth sex appeal.
The revolution will not get rid of the nubs.
The revolution will not make you look five pounds
thinner, because the revolution will not be televised, Brother.

There will be no pictures of you and Willie May
pushing that shopping cart down the block on the dead run,
or trying to slide that color television into a stolen ambulance.
NBC will not be able predict the winner at 8: 32
or report from 29 districts.
The revolution will not be televised.
There will be no pictures of pigs shooting down
brothers in the instant replay.
There will be no pictures of pigs shooting down
brothers in the instant replay.
There will be no pictures of Whitney Young being
run out of Harlem on a rail with a brand new process.
There will be no slow motion or still life of Roy
Wilkens strolling through Watts in a Red, Black and
Green liberation jumpsuit that he had been saving
For just the proper occasion.

Green Acres, The Beverly Hillbillies, and Hooterville
Junction will no longer be so damned relevant, and
women will not care if Dick finally gets down with
Jane on Search for Tomorrow because Black people
will be in the street looking for a brighter day.

The revolution will not be televised.
There will be no highlights on the eleven o’clock
news and no pictures of hairy armed women
liberationists and Jackie Onassis blowing her nose.
The theme song will not be written by Jim Webb,
Francis Scott Key, nor sung by Glen Campbell, Tom
Jones, Johnny Cash, Englebert Humperdink, or the Rare Earth.

The revolution will not be televised.
The revolution will not be right back
after a message about a white tornado, white lightning, or white people.
You will not have to worry about a dove in your
bedroom, a tiger in your tank, or the giant in your toilet bowl.
The revolution will not go better with Coke.
The revolution will not fight the germs that may cause bad breath.
The revolution will put you in the driver’s seat.
The revolution will not be televised, will not be televised,
will not be televised, will not be televised.
The revolution will be no re-run brothers;

The revolution will be live.

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You know, and it gets into this whole issue of border security,
you know,
who’s gonna say that the borders are secure?
We’ve got the House and the Senate debating this issue, and it’s…
it’s really astonishing that in a country founded by immigrants,
“immigrant” has somehow become a bad word.
So the debate rages on and we continue…
And just like that it’s over, we tend to our wounded, we count our dead
Black and white soldiers wonder alike if this really means freedom…

Not yet

I got 1 job, 2 jobs, 3 when I need them
I got 5 roommates in this one studio but I never really see them
And we all came America trying to get a lap dance from lady freedom
But now lady liberty is acting like Hillary Banks with a pre-nup
Man I was brave sailing on graves
Don’t think I didn’t notice those tombstones disguised as waves
I’m no dummy,
here is something funny you can be an immigrant without risking your lives
Or crossing these boarders with thrifty supplies
All you got to do is see the world with new eyes

Immigrants
We get the job done
Look how far I come
Look how far I come
Look how far I come
We get the job done
Look how far I come
Look how far I come
Look how far I come
Immigrants
We get the job done

It’s a hard line when you’re an import
Baby boy it’s hard times
When you ain’t sent for
Racist feed the belly of the beast
With they pitchforks, rich chores
Done by the people that get ignored

Ya se armó
Ya se despertaron
It’s a whole awakening
La alarma ya sonó hace rato
Los que quieren buscan
Pero nos apodan como vagos

We are the same ones
Hustling on every level
Ten los datos
Walk a mile in our shoes
Abróchense los zapatos
I been scoping ya dudes, ya’ll ain’t been working like I do
I’ll outwork you, it hurts you
You claim I’m stealing jobs though
Peter Piper claimed he picked them, he just underpaid Pablo
But there ain’t a paper trail when you living in the shadows
We’re America’s ghost writers, the credit’s only borrowed
It’s a matter of time before the checks all come
But…
Immigrants, we get the job done

Look how far I come
Look how far I come
Look how far I come
We get the job done
Look how far I come
Look how far I come
Look how far I come
Immigrants, we get the job (Not yet)

The credit is only borrowed
It’s America’s ghost writers, the credit’s only borrowed
It’s America’s ghost writers
America’s ghost writers
America’s ghost writers, the credit’s only borrow-borrowed
It’s Americas ghost writers, a credit is only borrowed
It’s Americas ghost writers, a credit is only borrowed
It’s Americas ghost writers, a credit is only borrowed
It’s
Immigrants, we get the job done

Ay yo aye, immigrants we don’t like that
Na they don’t play British empire strikes back
They beating us like 808’s and high hats
At our own game of invasion, but this ain’t Iraq
Who these fugees what did they do for me
But contribute new dreams
Taxes and tools, swagger and food to eat
Cool, they flee war zones, but the problem ain’t ours
Even if our bombs landed on them like the Mayflower
Buckingham Palace or Capitol Hill
Blood of my ancestors had that all built
It’s the ink you print on your dollar bill, oil you spill
Thin red lines on the flag you hoist when you kill
But still we just say “look how far I come”
Hindustan, Pakistan, to London
To a galaxy far from their ignorance
Cos
Immigrants, we get the job done

Por tierra o por agua
Identidad falsa
Brincamos muros o flotamos en balsas
La peleamos como Sandino en Nicaragua
Somos como las plantas que crecen sin agua
Sin pasaporte americano
Porque La mitad de gringolandia Es terreno mexicano
Hay que ser bien hijo e puta
Nosotros Les Sembramos el árbol y ellos se comen la fruta
Somos los que cruzaron
Aquí vinimos a buscar el oro que nos robaron
Tenemos mas trucos que la policía secreta
Metimos la casa completa en una maleta
Con un pico, una pala
Y un rastrillo
Te construimos un castillo
Como es que dice el coro cabrón?

Immigrants, we get the job done
Look how far I come
Look how far I come
Look how far I come
We get the job done
Look how far I come
Look how far I come
Look how far I come
Immigrants, we get the job done
Look how far I come
Look how far I come
Look how far I come
Immigrants, we get the job done (Not yet)

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I wish these guys had Youtube clips, but Bandcamp will have to do.

Australia’s best Irish band, Trouble in the Kitchen:

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From Guatemala to Korea
To the tunnels beneath Hanoi
From Tulsa to El Chorillo
Fat Man to Little Boy

We fought them in Nicaragua
And upon the Cuban shore
We killed Khaddafi’s daughter
See what the fatwa’s got in store

We’re gonna bomb our way to freedom
With the cruise missiles of justice
And the spent shells of democracy
Oh, say, can you see

From Kabul to Khartoum
Where Allah’s martyrs bled
To the Iraqi desert
Two hundred thousand people dead

We’re gonna bomb our way to freedom
With the cruise missiles of justice
And the spent shells of democracy
Oh, say, can you see

From the School of the Assassins
To Argentina’s dirty war
From Arizona to Nevada
We’ll nuke our way to heaven’s door

We’re gonna bomb our way to freedom
With the cruise missiles of justice
And the spent shells of democracy
Oh, say, can you see

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Sailing over to Vietnam
Southeast Asian Birmingham
Well training is the word we use
Nice word to have in case we lose
Training a million Vietnamese
To fight for the wrong government and the American way

Well they put me in a barracks house
Just across the way from Laos
They said, "You’re pretty safe when the troops deploy
But don’t turn your back on your house boy"
When they ring the gong
Watch out for the Viet-Cong

Well, the sergeant said, “It’s time to train”
So I climbed aboard my helicopter plane
We flew above the battle ground
A sniper tried to shoot us down
He must have forgotten, we’re only trainees
Them Commies never fight fair

Friends the very next day we trained some more
We burned some villages down to the floor
Yes we burned out the jungles far and wide
Made sure those red apes had no place left to hide
Threw all the people in relocation camps
Under lock and key, made damn sure they’re free

Well, I walked through the jungle and around the bend
Who should I meet but President Diem
Said you’re fighting to keep Vietnam free
For good old democracy
That means rule by one family
And 15, 000 American troops, give or take a few

Thousand
American
Troops

He said, "I was a fine old Christian man
Ruling this backward Buddhist land
Well, it ain’t much but what the heck
It sure beats hell out of Chiang Kai-shek
I’m the power elite
Me and the 7th fleet"

He said, "Meet my sister, Madam Nhu
The sweetheart of Dien Bien Phu"
He said, "Meet my brothers, meet my aunts
With the government that doesn’t take a chance
Families that slay together
Stay together"

Said, "If you want to stay you’ll have to pay
Over a million dollars a day, but it’s worth it all, don’t you see?
If you lose the country you’ll still have me
Me and Syngman Rhee, Chiang Kai-shek, Madam Nhu
Like I said on ‘Meet the Press’
I regret that I have but one country to give for my life"

Well, now old Diem is gone and dead
All the new leaders are anti-Red
Yes they’re pro-American, freedom sensations
Against Red China, the United Nations
Now all the news commentators and the CIA
Are saying, “Thank God for coincidence”