Layer 428 . . . Forbidden Love, Sex on the Job, Rough Trade, Politics, Wee Dougie Alexander, and Adele

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Douglas Alexander has been chosen by Ed Miliband to become his shadow foreign secretary. This raises very serious questions about Brother Ed's ability to build a winning team. He's never actually managed an organisation in real life, and he's making a complete nonsense of the most important aspect of management - recruiting the right people to fill the key roles.

He totally messed up with his appointment of Alan Johnson to be his shadow chancellor - which also makes you wonder how much Ed himself knows about economics. Now that Johnson's resigned he's brought into his senior management team one of the dullest, most right-wing, most conservative, most careerist, most New Labourist little shits he could possibly have found.

The boy Alexander is an appalling choice. He's the ultimate machine politician. He's a revolting little toad of an arselicking, conniving, over-ambitious, political pillock. What's more, his speaking voice, his delivery and his language are so boring he's impossible to even listen to, let alone understand and appreciate.

He has no ideology, no principles, no regard for Labour traditions. He's the classic managerialist. He has no passion for equality and social justice whatsoever. He'll go along with whatever Ed Mili says is current policy, and he'll do whatever he's asked to do in order to keep his nose clean(ish) and further his career in politics.

This whining prat was in charge of DAVID Miliband's leadership campaign. What's that tell us about his effectiveness - he couldn't even get the hot favourite for the leadership to be first past the winning post. Brother David must be cringing in disbelief.

Voting record (from PublicWhip)

How Douglas Alexander voted on key issues since 2001:
   
    * Voted very strongly for the Iraq war.
    * Voted very strongly against an investigation into the Iraq war.
    * Voted strongly for Labour's anti-terrorism laws.
    * Voted moderately for replacing Trident.
    * Voted very strongly for introducing foundation hospitals.
    * Voted strongly for introducing ID cards.
    * Voted moderately against greater autonomy for schools.

This man was a bugler in the Boys Brigade, he's the son of a Church of Scotland minister, he was a speechwriter and a researcher for Gordon Brown, he was a solicitor for precisely six months, he supported Blair on the abolition of Clause 4, and he's done fuck all of any real use - ever.  He's typical lobby fodder.

Make your own mind up.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Douglas_Alexander

PS There's no point anyone saying that Alexander was/is a decent constituency MP. Even if that were the case - so what? There are lots of us who could be hard-working MPs, given half a chance. Those Labour politicians who hold the senior posts in politics ought to be those who have a track record of fighting for the principles of equality, social justice and solidarity which the Labour party was created to fight for. Alexander is a third-rate apparachik and a lickspittle who supports illegal wars, supports a police state, supports nuclear weapons, supported the most right-wing leadership the Labour party has ever had, and hasn't a single radical thought in his head.

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People on the political programmes this morning were all talking about politics being a 'rough trade' - as they were discussing the resignations of Coulson and Johnson, the promotion of Balls, the competence of the police, the further questions about Blair being a war criminal, etc.

Presumably the word 'trade' is supposed to differentiate politics from proper professions, for which you need academic qualifications - as distinct from trades such as building, carpentry, plumbing, electrical contracting, etc . . . for which you also need proper qualifications. Plus practical skills, rather than academic theory.

The professions are for the middle classes. Trades are for the working classes.

Working class men and women used to be in Parliament, but not any more. These days you need to be something like the son or daughter of a church minister, preferably with a first class degree in politics, philosophy and economics, or law; preferably from Oxbridge. There are lots of lawyers in Westminster and Washington.

By 'rough', they mean that if you're a politician you become an object for abuse, condemnation, ridicule and hatred. Which is true. I'm happy to give my fair share of abuse, whilst also trying to reasonable, accurate and honest.

If you put yourself up to be a representative for people's needs and aspirations, and you then fail to say or do anything of significance to challenge or change the status quo, and you fail utterly to improve the lives of the poorest sections of society (if you happen to be a Labour politician), then you thoroughly deserve to be despised and verbally roughed up.

People are going crazy with frustration, living in poverty, living with no hope of a decent job, let alone a career or a decent pension, whilst fat cats get ever fatter, thanks to the complacency, indolence and self-serving smugness of unprincipled, visionless bastards like Douglas Alexander. What the hell do they expect?

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Ello, Ello, Ello, Goodbye.

Undercover police officers are apparently allowed to have sex with those they're spying on, but they're not allowed to fall in love with anyone they're trying to bang up, so to speak. Sounds about right.

It would look very strange if some needy activist says to her environmentalist-activist 'colleague' - "I'm gagging for a damn good bonk, old mate - let's go back to my place and get jiggy," and he - who's apparently a healthy heterosexual male then turns round and says, "No thanks".

What kind of collegiality and solidarity would that show? That would blow his cover instantly. The 'activist' would immediately realise that she was in the company of of an undercover plod who's under orders not to do normal human things - like having sex.

On the issue of falling in love - well, what can one say? Falling in love is NEVER a good idea. Admittedly it can sometimes take half a lifetime for people to learn NOT to "fall in love" (and just as quickly fall out again) and to realise that the love drug is just as dangerous and  as addictive as crack and heroin. This can be a very hard lesson to learn, especially when someone's bloodstream is full of the endorphins produced by great sex with an attractive partner and they feel BRILLIANT!

There's a world of difference between wanting to be with someone whose company and whose sexuality makes you feel fully alive, and mistaking your desire for that person for enduring love.

Loving someone involves a hell of a lot more than desiring someone, wanting to be with someone, feeling good when you're with someone. There are thousands of books and films about people who fall in and out of love. Mills and Boon created an industry out of people's desire for romantic love. People might want it, but that doesn't make it desirable. It can seriously mess up your life. Especially if you're an undercover cop.

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There's a brilliant song about crazy love released this week by a young English singer called Adele. She and her band performed it last night on the Alan Carr show. It's a rocking and rolling soulful groove called Rolling in the Deep. Catch it here:

http://www.adele.tv/videos/179/rolling-in-the-deep-official-video

http://www.metrolyrics.com/rolling-in-the-deep-lyrics-adele.html

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=a3gkoU7KtG4&feature=fvsr

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lazyDlfaptM&feature=related

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8slyQBbZFgc&feature=related

Great pounding rhythms, great voice, great backing vocals.

Very interesting how different her second album (21) sounds compared to her first album (19). Apparently the experience of touring in the USA and listening to soul and blues music had a huge impact on Adele, as she'd not really paid attention to these types of music previously.

The first single (from ("21")is a revenge tune "Rolling in the Deep". Adele described it as a "dark bluesy gospel disco tune."  -  Wiki

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Adele_%28singer%29

The fact that Adele had a huge hit with Bob Dylan's "Make You Feel My Love" (which was on her first album) also speaks volumes about her excellent taste and musical sensibilities.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0put0_a--Ng&feature=related

http://www.bobdylan.com/songs/make-you-feel-my-love

http://www.lyricsmode.com/lyrics/a/adele/make_you_feel_my_love.html

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Fnn9JlqqTE4

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Sex Was A Tool

Undercover police cleared 'to have sex with activists'

Promiscuity 'regularly used as tactic', says former officer, contradicting claims from Acpo

 http://www.guardian.co.uk/uk/2011/jan/22/undercover-police-cleared-sex-activists

Undercover police officers routinely adopted a tactic of "promiscuity" with the blessing of senior commanders, according to a former agent who worked in a secretive unit of the Metropolitan police for four years.

The former undercover policeman claims that sexual relationships with activists were sanctioned for both men and women officers infiltrating anarchist, leftwing and environmental groups.

Sex was a tool to help officers blend in, the officer claimed, and was widely used as a technique to glean intelligence. His comments contradict claims last week from the Association of Chief Police Officers that operatives were absolutely forbidden to sleep with activists.

The one stipulation, according to the officer from the Special Demonstration Squad (SDS), a secret unit formed to prevent violent disorder on the streets of London, was that falling in love was considered highly unprofessional because it might compromise an investigation. He said undercover officers, particularly those infiltrating environmental and leftwing groups, viewed having sex with a large number of partners "as part of the job".

"Everybody knew it was a very promiscuous lifestyle," said the former officer, who first revealed his life as an undercover agent to the Observer last year. "You cannot not be promiscuous in those groups. Otherwise you'll stand out straightaway."

Well, of course - we all know these promiscuous activist anarchists are all bonking like bunnies. Especially the women. Mad, bad and dangerous to know. OK to shag though, if you really need to.

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Layer 420 . . . Libraries, Social Hubs, Closures, Philistines, Pedlars of Fear, Securocrats and New Labour Nasties

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It's now beginning to feel like the bad old days of Thatcher and the Nasty Party. Every day the blood starts to boil at the sheer awfulness, meanness and stupidity of government.

This week it's the continuing effects of unnecessary cuts in spending, the rise in prices caused by increasing VAT, the money wasted on goverment spies, the closing of libraries, and so on.

The closure of libraries is appalling. You can just sense the glee of the local bureaucrats and politicians, all of them presumably card-carrying members of the Provisional wing of the Daily Mail, who are rubbing their hands with glee at the prospect of shutting libraries - which from their point of view is a triple whammy.

1) Sod the working classes and their inability/unwillingness to buy their own books and computers, and to rent their own broadband.

2) Stop paying the salaries of librarians, and spending a fortune on new books.

3) Sell off valuable premises in some prime locations, thereby bringing even more money into their coffers.

Of course this works wonderfully for central government as well - being able to pass on the blame for library closures to local government, on the grounds that they didn't directly order the closures, and in any case they suggested that libraries could be run by 'volunteers'.

Have a look at this excellent article by John Harris, and learn more about the essential role of local libraries as community 'hubs', and the key role of librarians:

Librarians: 'We do so much more than shelve books and say shhh'

The Tories clearly don't know how much libraries do. Cuts will threaten the very social bonds they claim to want to promote

http://www.guardian.co.uk/commentisfree/2011/jan/11/north-yorkshire-libraries-cuts-closures-big-society

Fifteen minutes south of Scarborough is Eastfield Community Resource Centre – opened four years ago, to serve one of the area's most disadvantaged communities. In addition to lending out books, what would once have been a mere library has obeyed the modern demand to transform itself into a "hub", and provides what might look to a lot of people like the raw materials of social mobility: internet access, parent and toddler groups, space and resources to help with school homework, meeting rooms and more.

On the day I visit, four staff members are seeing to the needs of a steady stream of people. The shelves bulge with titles that point to horizons well beyond these parts: David Remnick's Obama biography, The Bridge; a rich work of pop-cultural scholarship entitled Dylan's Visions Of Sin; and a coffee-table study of Matisse. "You can't learn everything at school," one local tells me; this place surely offers instant proof.

In Somerset, 24 out of 40 libraries may soon close. In Doncaster, 13 of the 26 are under threat. The same applies to 20 out of 43 libraries in Oxfordshire, 7 of the 12 in Conwy, 23 of the 32 in Cornwall, and 9 of the 11 on the Isle of Wight. The noise of protest grows greater by the day: do not be surprised if pockets of local dissent soon fuse together, and cause no end of problems for both national and local government.

Why can't Cameron, Clegg, Pickles and co understand that this kind of thing makes this country look utterly pathetic in the eyes of the rest of the world - or at least the parts of it that aren't run by similar Philistine arseholes whose greed and selfishness are the key components of their DNA? Admittedly those sorts of people are the ones who tend to rise to the top in politics - in all countries - but anyone with a shred of decency and intelligence surely understands that for a country as wealthy as Britain to be CUTTING BACK on library provision instead of expanding it is a vile act of cultural and social vandalism. Obviously this sort of thing increases social divisions, instead of reducing inequality. It reduces people's prospects of lifelong learning instead of increasing them. It reduces social cohesion instead of increasing it. It destroys social capital instead of multiplying it.

http://www.guardian.co.uk/culture/culture-cuts-blog

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It might be worth also taking another look at this article from a while back:

Our libraries are at risk - just when we need them most

Lean times are already bringing cuts in services, with little heed to the vital role they play and how they shape futures

http://www.guardian.co.uk/commentisfree/2009/apr/02/libraries-closures-recession

Also refer back to the article by Catherine Bennett commented on in Layer 389 back in November:

http://oxzen.blogspot.com/2010/11/layer-389-closing-libraries.html


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You should also take a look at this piece by Simon Jenkins this week:

The state's pedlars of fear must be brought to account

Why have a private firm run police to spy on a few greens? The Ratcliffe Six case is a warning story of securocrats out of control

http://www.guardian.co.uk/commentisfree/2011/jan/11/police-reform-mark-stone-terrorism

The picture of the Ratcliffe Six, who appeared to be "greens" from central casting . . .  recalled Chesterton's satire on the early Met police special branch, The Man Who Was Thursday, in which all the members of the "supreme anarchist council" turned out to be policemen. So, are the greens all policemen, and if so what is their game?

Mark Stone, aka Kennedy, clearly had a good job. He could climb trees, buy drinks, sleep with girls, shout at the fuzz and chain himself to nuclear power stations, all on the taxpayer. The only thing that went wrong was a bad attack of Stockholm syndrome. Kennedy fell in love with the enemy. He started worrying about global warming, which was not in the script.

Running Kennedy – let alone his colleagues – cost the taxpayer £250,000 a year, or £1.75m over seven years. Whether tree-hugging and the occasional trespass constituted threats to national security is moot. A gilded sledgehammer was clearly being deployed to crack a few nuts. They were not a serious terrorist threat. The denouement was a costly fiasco. This is what happens when authority has too much money and no one in charge to impose a sense of proportion.

It is significant that Kennedy did not work for any police force. He worked for a murky organisation called the National Public Order Intelligence Unit (NPOIU). With a budget of £5m this operates as a branch of the National Domestic Extremism Unit (NDEU) which, in turn, works alongside the National Extremism Tactical Co-ordination Unit (NETCU). Ask where this stands, and you will be told it reports to the Association of Chief Police Officers' Terrorism and Allied Matters Committee, codenamed Acpo(TAM).

Only those who have tarried in the foggy corridors of the Home Office, the Ministry of Justice and the Metropolitan police can have any notion of the Orwellian extravagance of these places. Agencies, units and groups cruise shark-like round the feet of terrified Home Office ministers. Their staffs, expenses, overtime and accommodation are crammed into London's Scotland Yard and Tintagel House. If challenged, they incant their motto: "We keep you safe."

Kennedy's bosses in the NPOIU work for Acpo, but this is not what it seems. It is not, as its name suggests, the police officers' staff club, nor is it a public body of any sort. It is a private company, incorporated in 1997. It is sub-contracted by Whitehall to operate the police end of the government's counterterrorism and "anti-extremism" strategies. It is thus alongside MI5, but even less accountable.

As a private company, Acpo need not accede to Freedom of Information requests and presumably could distribute its profit to its own board. The whole operation is reminiscent of the deals set up by the Pentagon with private firms to run the Iraq and Afghan wars, free of publicity or accountability. There is no more vivid testament to the illiberalism of the Blair regime than these eccentric arrangements. They were all approved by the likes of David Blunkett, Charles Clarke, John Reid and Jacqui Smith.

These people are the real baddies in this story - Blair, Blunkett, Clarke, Reid and Smith. Every one of them a nasty piece of work - plotters, careerists, authoritarians, eliteists, bullies, egomaniacs and all-round arseholes. No more interested in civil liberties and justice than they are in socialism and greater equality in our society. New Labour through and through. It's mainly thanks to them - their negligence, acquiescence and positive intent - that the system became what it clearly is now, and which somebody needs to do something about as a matter of urgency. So step forward Teresa May . . .

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Layer 377 . . . Protests, Political Activism, Woody Guthrie and Bob Dylan

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Had an interesting chat with Biker D about this week's protest march against the education cuts and the coalition's proposals to charge higher fees to students. Being a cynic, his attitude was, 'since when do protest marches achieve anything?'

Of course he cited the notorious example of the anti-Iraq war demo, but as I said to him, even if it didn't stop the war it put down a significant marker and made it plain that there were millions of people who were not only against the war but were prepared to travel considerable distances in many cases to make their voices heard.

I thought it was also worth making the point that previous generations of students and activists had held massive demonstrations against obscenities like apartheid and the war in Vietnam in order to put pressure on governments to change their policies. The effects of any individual demo may not be apparent, but the cumulative effect can be considerable. The alternative is to do nothing, say nothing, and act like nobody really cares about anything.

So for D's benefit, and for anyone interested in delving into our history of protest and dissent, here's some links to sites about English political activism:

The Peasants' Revolt

The Levellers

The Diggers

The Diggers' Declaration

The Chartists

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Some people see it as their life's work to be a political activist, and some artists make it their business to be social and political commentators. Some artists are also committed political activists. Our very own Billy Bragg is a good example.

Woody Guthrie frequently performed with the slogan This Machine Kills Fascists displayed on his guitar. His best-known song is "This Land Is Your Land" - Wikipedia

Listening to a Bob Dylan album this morning - Bootleg Series, Vols 1 - 3, 1961 - 1991, Disc I - I came across Dylan's tribute to Woody: 'Last Thoughts On Woody Guthrie'.

Last Thoughts On Woody Guthrie

When yer head gets twisted and yer mind grows numb
When you think you're too old, too young, too smart or too dumb
When yer laggin' behind an' losin' yer pace
In a slow-motion crawl of life's busy race
No matter what yer doing if you start givin' up
If the wine don't come to the top of yer cup
If the wind's got you sideways with with one hand holdin' on
And the other starts slipping and the feeling is gone
And yer train engine fire needs a new spark to catch it
And the wood's easy findin' but yer lazy to fetch it
And yer sidewalk starts curlin' and the street gets too long
And you start walkin' backwards though you know its wrong
And lonesome comes up as down goes the day
And tomorrow's mornin' seems so far away
And you feel the reins from yer pony are slippin'
And yer rope is a-slidin' 'cause yer hands are a-drippin'
And yer sun-decked desert and evergreen valleys
Turn to broken down slums and trash-can alleys
And yer sky cries water and yer drain pipe's a-pourin'
And the lightnin's a-flashing and the thunder's a-crashin'
And the windows are rattlin' and breakin' and the roof tops a-shakin'
And yer whole world's a-slammin' and bangin'
And yer minutes of sun turn to hours of storm
And to yourself you sometimes say
"I never knew it was gonna be this way
Why didn't they tell me the day I was born"
And you start gettin' chills and yer jumping from sweat
And you're lookin' for somethin' you ain't quite found yet
And yer knee-deep in the dark water with yer hands in the air
And the whole world's a-watchin' with a window peek stare
And yer good gal leaves and she's long gone a-flying
And yer heart feels sick like fish when they're fryin'
And yer jackhammer falls from yer hand to yer feet
And you need it badly but it lays on the street
And yer bell's bangin' loudly but you can't hear its beat
And you think yer ears might a been hurt
Or yer eyes've turned filthy from the sight-blindin' dirt
And you figured you failed in yesterdays rush
When you were faked out an' fooled white facing a four flush
And all the time you were holdin' three queens
And it's makin you mad, it's makin' you mean
Like in the middle of Life magazine
Bouncin' around a pinball machine
And there's something on yer mind you wanna be saying
That somebody someplace oughta be hearin'
But it's trapped on yer tongue and sealed in yer head
And it bothers you badly when your layin' in bed
And no matter how you try you just can't say it
And yer scared to yer soul you just might forget it
And yer eyes get swimmy from the tears in yer head
And yer pillows of feathers turn to blankets of lead
And the lion's mouth opens and yer staring at his teeth
And his jaws start closin with you underneath
And yer flat on your belly with yer hands tied behind
And you wish you'd never taken that last detour sign
And you say to yourself just what am I doin'
On this road I'm walkin', on this trail I'm turnin'
On this curve I'm hanging
On this pathway I'm strolling, in the space I'm taking
In this air I'm inhaling
Am I mixed up too much, am I mixed up too hard
Why am I walking, where am I running
What am I saying, what am I knowing
On this guitar I'm playing, on this banjo I'm frailin'
On this mandolin I'm strummin', in the song I'm singin'
In the tune I'm hummin', in the words I'm writin'
In the words that I'm thinkin'
In this ocean of hours I'm all the time drinkin'
Who am I helping, what am I breaking
What am I giving, what am I taking
But you try with your whole soul best
Never to think these thoughts and never to let
Them kind of thoughts gain ground
Or make yer heart pound
But then again you know why they're around
Just waiting for a chance to slip and drop down
"Cause sometimes you hear'em when the night times comes creeping
And you fear that they might catch you a-sleeping
And you jump from yer bed, from yer last chapter of dreamin'
And you can't remember for the best of yer thinking
If that was you in the dream that was screaming
And you know that it's something special you're needin'
And you know that there's no drug that'll do for the healin'
And no liquor in the land to stop yer brain from bleeding
And you need something special
Yeah, you need something special all right
You need a fast flyin' train on a tornado track
To shoot you someplace and shoot you back
You need a cyclone wind on a stream engine howler
That's been banging and booming and blowing forever
That knows yer troubles a hundred times over
You need a Greyhound bus that don't bar no race
That won't laugh at yer looks
Your voice or your face
And by any number of bets in the book
Will be rollin' long after the bubblegum craze
You need something to open up a new door
To show you something you seen before
But overlooked a hundred times or more
You need something to open your eyes
You need something to make it known
That it's you and no one else that owns
That spot that yer standing, that space that you're sitting
That the world ain't got you beat
That it ain't got you licked
It can't get you crazy no matter how many
Times you might get kicked
You need something special all right
You need something special to give you hope
But hope's just a word
That maybe you said or maybe you heard
On some windy corner 'round a wide-angled curve

But that's what you need man, and you need it bad
And yer trouble is you know it too good
"Cause you look an' you start getting the chills

"Cause you can't find it on a dollar bill
And it ain't on Macy's window sill
And it ain't on no rich kid's road map
And it ain't in no fat kid's fraternity house
And it ain't made in no Hollywood wheat germ
And it ain't on that dimlit stage
With that half-wit comedian on it
Ranting and raving and taking yer money
And you thinks it's funny
No you can't find it in no night club or no yacht club
And it ain't in the seats of a supper club
And sure as hell you're bound to tell
That no matter how hard you rub
You just ain't a-gonna find it on yer ticket stub
No, and it ain't in the rumors people're tellin' you
And it ain't in the pimple-lotion people are sellin' you
And it ain't in no cardboard-box house
Or down any movie star's blouse
And you can't find it on the golf course
And Uncle Remus can't tell you and neither can Santa Claus
And it ain't in the cream puff hair-do or cotton candy clothes
And it ain't in the dime store dummies or bubblegum goons
And it ain't in the marshmallow noises of the chocolate cake voices
That come knockin' and tappin' in Christmas wrappin'
Sayin' ain't I pretty and ain't I cute and look at my skin
Look at my skin shine, look at my skin glow
Look at my skin laugh, look at my skin cry
When you can't even sense if they got any insides
These people so pretty in their ribbons and bows
No you'll not now or no other day
Find it on the doorsteps made out-a paper mache
And inside it the people made of molasses
That every other day buy a new pair of sunglasses
And it ain't in the fifty-star generals and flipped-out phonies
Who'd turn yuh in for a tenth of a penny
Who breathe and burp and bend and crack
And before you can count from one to ten
Do it all over again but this time behind yer back
My friend
The ones that wheel and deal and whirl and twirl
And play games with each other in their sand-box world
And you can't find it either in the no-talent fools
That run around gallant
And make all rules for the ones that got talent
And it ain't in the ones that ain't got any talent but think they do
And think they're foolin' you
The ones who jump on the wagon
Just for a while 'cause they know it's in style
To get their kicks, get out of it quick
And make all kinds of money and chicks
And you yell to yourself and you throw down yer hat
Sayin', "Christ do I gotta be like that
Ain't there no one here that knows where I'm at
Ain't there no one here that knows how I feel
Good God Almighty
THAT STUFF AIN'T REAL"

No but that ain't yer game, it ain't even yer race
You can't hear yer name, you can't see yer face
You gotta look some other place
And where do you look for this hope that yer seekin'
Where do you look for this lamp that's a-burnin'
Where do you look for this oil well gushin'
Where do you look for this candle that's glowin'
Where do you look for this hope that you know is there
And out there somewhere
And your feet can only walk down two kinds of roads
Your eyes can only look through two kinds of windows
Your nose can only smell two kinds of hallways
You can touch and twist
And turn two kinds of doorknobs
You can either go to the church of your choice
Or you can go to Brooklyn State Hospital
You'll find God in the church of your choice
You'll find Woody Guthrie in Brooklyn State Hospital

And though it's only my opinion
I may be right or wrong
You'll find them both
In the Grand Canyon
At sundown

by Bob Dylan

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NVbr0y8zp68

http://vids.myspace.com/index.cfm?fuseaction=vids.individual&videoid=37462107

Song To Woody

I’m out here a thousand miles from my home
Walkin’ a road other men have gone down
I’m seein’ your world of people and things
Your paupers and peasants and princes and kings

Hey, hey, Woody Guthrie, I wrote you a song
’Bout a funny ol’ world that’s a-comin’ along
Seems sick an’ it’s hungry, it’s tired an’ it’s torn
It looks like it’s a-dyin’ an’ it’s hardly been born

Hey, Woody Guthrie, but I know that you know
All the things that I’m a-sayin’ an’ a-many times more
I’m a-singin’ you the song, but I can’t sing enough
’Cause there’s not many men that done the things that you’ve done

Here’s to Cisco an’ Sonny an’ Leadbelly too
An’ to all the good people that traveled with you
Here’s to the hearts and the hands of the men
That come with the dust and are gone with the wind

I’m a-leavin’ tomorrow, but I could leave today
Somewhere down the road someday
The very last thing that I’d want to do
Is to say I’ve been hittin’ some hard travelin’ too

From the album Bob Dylan (1962)

Copyright © 1962, 1965 by Duchess Music Corporation; renewed 1990, 1993 by MCA

(Excellent sleeve notes - http://www.bobdylan.com/#/node/6234 )


         

THIS LAND IS YOUR LAND
words and music by Woody Guthrie

Chorus:
This land is your land, this land is my land
From California, to the New York Island
From the redwood forest, to the gulf stream waters
This land was made for you and me

As I was walking a ribbon of highway
I saw above me an endless skyway
I saw below me a golden valley
This land was made for you and me

Chorus

I've roamed and rambled and I've followed my footsteps
To the sparkling sands of her diamond deserts
And all around me a voice was sounding
This land was made for you and me

Chorus

The sun comes shining as I was strolling
The wheat fields waving and the dust clouds rolling
The fog was lifting a voice come chanting
This land was made for you and me

Chorus

As I was walkin'  -  I saw a sign there
And that sign said - no tress passin'
But on the other side  .... it didn't say nothin!
Now that side was made for you and me!

Chorus

In the squares of the city - In the shadow of the steeple
Near the relief office - I see my people
And some are grumblin' and some are wonderin'
If this land's still made for you and me.

Chorus (2x)

©1956 (renewed 1984), 1958 (renewed 1986) and 1970 TRO-Ludlow Music, Inc. (
BMI)

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