When the generals say it's time for war, you may be wrong to go
The generals may know all about war, but war is all they know
So take it with a grain of salt when the generals say, "Let's fight"
But when the generals say it's time for peace, the chances are they're right
When the pacifists say it's time for peace, you know they may be wrong
There comes a day when you have to fight, though you'd rather get along
You can't make everything go away by wishing with all your might
But when the generals say it's time for peace, the chances are they're right
Maybe a dozen folks want this war
Only half of them know what for
They won't do the fighting, they don't know how
What a pity they're all in the white house now
When a songwriter tells you what to think, don't bother to listen long
The only think we know for sure is how to write a song
So think for yourself: who dies? who prospers every time we fight?
Cause when the generals say it's time for peace, the chances are they're right
Go back to sleep. The fragile night of early Summer dies too soon
Go back to sleep. Ignore the sunshine when it swears it's almost noon.
We were up past sunset singing love songs while the bashful stars
crept out of hiding one by one until they filled the skies
The morning sun is telling lies, believe the clock and not your eyes, go back to sleep.
Go back to sleep. Cuddle close to me and slumber for a while
Go back to sleep. Ride the soft slow ship of dreams another mile.
Day is coming soon enough with much to do and miles to go
and promises to keep, and you know that you'll keep them best
When you've had a good night's rest, so lay your head upon my breast, go back to sleep.
Lullaby of morning, the evening's made for song
The night is made for loving and the day is made too long
The morning's made for sleeping in, and that's what we should do
It's next to the best thing in life sleeping next to you
Go back to sleep. Although the sun got up too early by mistake,
Go back to sleep. And always know I love you sleeping or awake.
Day is prying at the window like a burglar bent on breaking in
and robbing us of slumber, but that's what the blind is for
Let me lie a little more beside the sweet love I adore, go back to sleep.
I'm sure that Grandma's a pirate. At her birthday party last night
She told everybody, "Aye, matey", that's pirate talk all right
When I grow up, a pirate is what I want to be
And I'll make my teacher walk the plank the first time we go to sea
Grandma's a pirate, Grandma's a pirate
She must have a cannon, I hope she lets me fire it
Grandma's a pirate, I wanna take a trip
On Grandma's pirate ship
I'm sure that Grandma's a pirate, cause she hid the cookie jar
When I asked her where the cookies is, she said, "Not 'is', it's 'arrr'"
I bet she has a wooden leg, though she never lets me see
But I heard she got a titanium hip and that's enough for me
I'm sure that Grandma's a pirate, she has a parrot too
It doesn't say the kind of things that pirate's parrots do
But I'm teaching it to speak right, so far it's doing great
It already says "Shiver my crackers" and "Polly wants pieces of eight"
I haven't seen my Grandpa since I was only three
I bet he's sailing his own ship in some far-distant sea
Now Grandma plays in her garden, keeps digging here and there
I bet she buried a treasure chest and can't remember where
If you prefer to pronounce that word as "scoundrels", feel free.
I'm a harper by trade, and my living is made by playing the harp all day long
I know every note that O'Carolan wrote, I can back up a dance or a song
I'll play anywhere, be it foul, be it fair, as long as it's there I can drive
But I'll tell you no lie, I'm reluctant to fly, for it's seldom my harp will survive
The harp-breaking bastards who load the great planes
With crowbars and sledgehammers, grab-hooks and chains
Their music's the roar of the airplanes above
But the smash of a harp is the sound that they love
I remember the day I agreed for to play in a land far away from my home
I build a great box with steel bars and stout locks, I lined it with velvet and foam
I marked it FRAGILE, and I worried the while I soared through the unfriendly sky
I arrived safe and sound, and my harp it was found – a week later – smashed – in Shanghai
. . . They plug up their earholes and unplug their brains
Oliver Cromwell is buried and gone
But the harp-breaking bastards go slaughtering on
There's a carol we sing, where on hovering wing, the angels play harps made of gold
They don't have to check them for devils to wreck in the clamour of Hell's baggage hold
I'm planning to play for yet many a day on this lovely green Earth ere I die
But I envy the band up in God's promised land – it's the only way harpers can fly
. . . the scum of the ramp rats, the spawn of the drains
If Heaven's the place where the good harpers go
Then the harp-breaking bastards are going below
Valentine's comes but once a year
Cupid works much too hard, that's what I hear
Flies around the country, never wears his pants
Shooting arrows tipped with sweet romance
Valentine's should come all year round
That would wear out Cupid, right down to the ground
Someone should help out that chubby little guy
Take your pants off, grab a bow and arrow and fly
If you love somebody all the time, you've gotta let it show
If you wait three hundred and sixty-four days, they're gonna call you slow
I knew a guy with a once-a-year gal, I sympathized with his plight
I asked why he was grinning, he said . . . "Tonight's the night"
Don't save your loving for one special day,
Don't let the calendar organize it all away
No matter if it's February, June or July,
Take your pants off, grab a bow and arrow and fly.
The water is scarce, and the children drink first
And yesterday Grandmother died of her thirst
We smelted her body for what she could give
Four liters of water for those who still live
No desert on Earth is a thousandth as dry
As Tranquility Sea where my grandmother died
And high overhead hangs the world of her birth
We die from the want of the waters of Earth
The bright sunlight sparkles on oceans and bays
Just four hundred thousand kilometers away
But the hydrogen rockets no longer are flyin'
And I'm working to death in the hydrogen mines
The yield isn't much from they hydrogen ore
Each liter of water takes ten tonnes or more
But that is the best our prospectors can find
And I'm working to death in the hydrogen mines
My pressure suit's old and its gaskets are weak
And water is lost when the air starts to leak
If you don't watch your cooling and work up a sweat
In the hydrogen mines, you lose more than you get
We sat by our comm sets and heard the war cried
We saw the bright flashes as great cities died
If any survive on that planet so fair
They've billions to bury and no help to spare
The last crops are dead in the dry growin' frames
The last child is born, and she bears my last name
But I won't be around her to hear her last cryin'
Cause I'm working to death in the hydrogen mines
I'm not sure of Christ, but I believe in Christmas
I believe in Chistmas trees and mistletoe
Peace on most of Earth, and some folks get enough to eat
Who've gone a little hungry since this time of year
Some weep about the Christ child in the creche
But babes are born in worse than mangers every day
But, what the hell, the days are getting longer now
In all the world except the Southern Hemisphere
I'm not fond of greed, of war toys and computer games
But no child should grow up without a teddy bear
And after all these years, I still remember how I felt
The year I found a bicycle beneath the tree
They tell me once you're grown up, there's more joy
In giving to your loved ones than in what you get
How can I know for sure? I seldom see my nieces
Or my nephew, they're in Montreal and Calgary
Those who keep the Old Faith will burn their bright Yule logs and tell you
Christmas is far older than the church of Christ
And therefore there are Christians who'd never have a Christmas tree
Their God could not forgive a day of pagan cheer
Christmas started I don't know how long ago
But Christmas is as newborn as the northbound sun
And so, my cherished friends, rest merry on this day of joy
And peace be with you all through this and every year.
When I was just a boy I learned how to be a man
Got to face misfortune cheerfully, just to prove you can
When everything goes wrong you've got to grit your teeth and smile
But now, if you don't cry real tears, they say you're in denial
I'm not in denial, I'm not in denial
Why should I plead guilty every time life sends a trial?
I can handle this just fine, and no, god damn it, I'm not cryin'
I'm not in denial at all
You tell me that I drink too much, I wish you'd take a hike
I never met a glass of whiskey that I didn't like
It won't love me in the morning, I knew that without your warning
I'm not in denial at all
I'm not in denial, I'm not in denial
I'm not staring at the wall, I'm counting all the tiles
Every time I hear from you things could get worse -- they do
I'm not in denial at all
You say denial is a state where folks refuse to care
Where people lie about their weight and vote for billionaires
Allow me please to explicate: De Nile's a river, not a state
I'm not in denial at all
I'm not in denial, I'm not in denial
You're so hung up on tears you've started seeing crocodiles
No pyramids, no burning sand, you just barged in on dry land
I'm not in denial at all
I'm not in denial, I'm not in denial
Get your cotton-pickin' hands off my inner child
You're a nerd and I'm annoyed, who told you you're Sigmund Freud?
I'm not in denial at all
We were marching, marching, our vision was plain
We were trampling our fences and smashing our chains
A world without war is what we were arranging
A world that was peaceful and sane
I've forgotten the chords to "The Times Are A-Changin'"
It looks like they've changed back again.
Verses
It's the same old guitar that I played way back when
And I'm making a hundred times what I did then
I could buy a real good one with one week of pay
But there's never much left at the end of the day
What the hell, I just know a few chords anyway
And I guess the times changed back again
We fought for free love, and we knew we would win
And we'd laugh when the rednecks would rave about Sin
Now one-parent poverty cannot be hid
Now AIDS is a-slaughtering, we hope that our kids
Will do what we tell them and not what we did
And I guess the times changed back again
We fought for a world that was peaceful and clean
With hatred and hunger no more to be seen
Now everywhere people are killin' and dyin'
Corporations and governments stealin' and lyin'
And yuppies who snicker we were foolish for tryin'
And I guess the times changed back again
The Sixties are gone, for no decade can last
But the future has always grown out of the past
So call me nostalgic or call me deranged
But I think of a time, though today it sounds strange
When plain ordinary people could make the world change
'Cause the times need a-changin' again
Coda (after last chorus)
I looked up the chords to "The Times Are A-Changin'"
Let's go out and change them again!
There's a bridge in Victoria, B.C. that is past its pull date
Back in the nineteen twenties, George Green worked at the forge
Lovely Midge was his sweetheart on the far side of the gorge
One night he thought of strolling by to trade some kisses sweet
When he got to the gorge, they said, "Sorry, George, there's no bridge on Johnson Street"
There's no bridge on Johnson Street, there's no bridge on Johnson Street
You can swim across the gorge if you feel equal to the feat
If you walk around the end, when you get there you'll be beat
So good bye Midge, cause there ain't no bridge at the end of Johnson Street
George didn't give up easy, next day he told his boss
"I know how we can make a pile and never risk a loss
Start rolling out bridge girders, cause they'll need ten thousand feet
To save an hour and join Craigflower to the end of Johnson Street"
They looked at three designs, then they figured out somehow
We could do it in nineteen twenty three, but we can't afford it now
So we'll chip the rust and paint it till it looks all nice and new
Cheer up, chaps, it may not collapse for another year or two.
TAG
If you drive around, you'll waste the gas and worsen global heat . . .
More of this one is stolen than in most of my songs. Not only
did I steal the seagull, I also inadvertently swiped eight bars of
the melody of Tom Lehrer's MLF Lullaby
Jonathan Livingston Seagull loved to show off
Every aerobatic opposition he could blow off
One day near La Guardia his program got upset
He got sucked into the intake of a transatlantic jet
Jonathan Livingston's feeding all the fish
Sliced, diced, and toasted, he's a mighty tasty dish
High above the ocean, halfway to Heaven
Sucked through the engine of a 747
The first turbine blade trimmed the feathers of his tail
The next turbine blade cut his little pink toenails
Jonathan exclaimed, "That's what comes of stunting blind
There's a flying people seagull eater going through my mind"
Jonathan Livingston wasn't neat and clean
His feathers were all rumpled and he reeked of kerosene
The angel at the gate said, "What's that dreadful smell?
Heaven is no place for fuels – You can go to Hell"
Jonathan Livingston flies above the flames
Teaching all the bats of Hell aerobatic games
He says, "Come reincarnation, I know where I'm going:
I'll come back as a fiddler – I've been through a lot of Boeing"
This 1975 song was the first thing I wrote that I thought was good enough to get other people to sing. It wasn't.
They took out a contact to cut down the last Douglas fir in year twenty-oh-three.
They cut it down, cut it up, built them a house with a sign up for all folks to see:
This is the very last Douglas fir house That anyone ever can make For two thousand dollars you can spend the night here And reminisce 'bout old time sake
But don't shed a tear for the last Douglas fir
For things will come back just the way that they were
We've planted another, so dry up your tears
You can come back and see it in three hundred years
We've cut down the poplars, we've cut down the pines, we've cut down the maples and oaks
The grass, and the trees that were too short to cut, have been killed by the fumes and the smoke
We've killed all the fish, and we've killed all the whales, we've killed all the birds and the bees
And there's nothing alive that ain't under a dome now we've cut down that Douglas fir tree
But don't cast a curse on MacMillan Bloedel
They know your best interests, you know that so well
They've planted a forest, so take back that curse
Cause things may get better when things can't get worse
Thanks to Zite Hutton for suggesting this song
Johnny had a lizard, a cute little baby skink
Johnny dropped his chemistry set, the lizard took a drink
I don't know what the lizard drank, it wouldn't be good for you
But it sure made that lizard grow, it grew and grew and grew
Help! Help! Call the lizard remover
A twenty foot lizard is loose in Vancouver
The situation had better improve, or
We're all gonna get eaten up
The lizard ate up Johnny, it ate up both of his folks
It ate his baby sister, then out of the house it broke
It ate up everybody it could find in the neighborhood
It found that, though they act peculiar, people are mostly good
. . . fifty foot lizard . . .
It ate up a Volkswagen, ate it driver and all
Decided it was pretty good, but just a little small
It wandered onto the highway, it found the transit lane
Ate forty-three buses and three hundred vans, cause it was growing again
. . . hundred foot lizard . . .
The more it ate, the more it grew, and more, and more, and more
Till . . . LISTEN! I CAN HEAR IT! IT'S RIGHT OUTSIDE THE DOOR!
It's eaten everybody except for me and you
And, if you don't behave yourself, it's gonna eat you too
. . . thousand foot lizard . . .