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THE ARTISTS:
Will Putman
A multi-talented musician & songwriter, Fairbanks resident Will Putman plays guitar, fiddle, mandolin, harmonica. He has recorded four CDs of his own songs: 15 Hours of Driving; The Middle of Nowhere; Northwords; and Homefires. Find out more at www.trillmusic.net
Mike Truax
Mike lives in Juneau. His easy, witty style reminds one of the late Steve Goodman, who was one of Mike's strong influences. When Goodman and mandolinist Jethro Burns played in Juneau in the late '70s, Mike stayed up all night listening to them jam at a friend's house.
Buddy Tabor
A mainstay of the Juneau folk music scene, Buddy paints houses when he's not singing and it's not raining. His gritty voice and often sardonic lyrics leave no doubt about his passionate political views.
He has four CDs: Blinding Flash of Light; Earth and the Sky; Writing on Stone; and Edge of Despair.
Collette Costa
Collette has her own following in Juneau due to her former stint as the Morning Madame on local radio and her current popular downtown eating spot, Costa's Diner. But her forte is her rich, clear singing voice.
Burl Sheldon
Haines resident Burl Sheldon surrounds himself with talented musicians and often writes songs with his wife, Nancy Berland. A former Bristol Bay fisherman, his CDs include Tidal Lore. Learn more about Burl and his music at:
www.mosquitonet.com/~gcn/burl/burl.htm
or Roughage Queen Productions, P.O. Box 952, Haines, AK 99827
Tony Tengs
Juneau singer, songwriter, musician Tony Tengs works on the Alaska ferries. He collaborated with Albert McDonnell to give us two songs on the Wounded Dove CD. They are also the moving force behind The Preserves (see below). Albert fishes salmon, owns and operates the Skatebottom Sound recording studio, and is a fine bass guitarist.
Jane Roodenburg
A long-time Juneau resident and KTOO-FM volunteer DJ, Jane has just begun nursing school in Vermont. Her sweet voice and presence will be missed in Juneau until she returns.
Know When To Quit
This stage name belongs to the Hoskinson Family of Juneau: Frederick, Terry, and their 14-year old daughter Glenn. Terry has been involved in the Juneau folk scene for a number of years, including as a board member of the Alaska Folk Festival, an annual event that draws musicians from across the state, the U.S. and Canada. http://akfolkfest.org
Curt Terrall
Juneau's Curt Terrall does everything well: singing, playing guitar, songwriting, and making you smile and think at the same time.
Pat Henry
Originally from Texas, Pat has been a long-time Juneau resident and beloved figure in the local folk music community. He has performed at every Alaska Folk Festival since its inception in 1975. Pat's rich acoustic guitar and mandolin and his inimitable singing style are joined with smart and often humorous lyrics. Pat brought together most of the artists on the Wounded Dove CD, and worked overtime to record, mix and master the tracks.
Mudlark
Based in Davis, California, the Alaska connection in Mudlark is Katie Henry, who grew up in Juneau and returns at least annually to perform with various musicians, including her dad, Pat. Katie is known for her fine banjo and guitar work and her vocals. The rest of Mudlark are Laura Sandage on string bass and Ray Frank on guitar. All three sing in great harmony. Visit them at:
www.mudlarkmusic.com
The Preserves
This group has been playing the Alaska Folk Festival in Juneau since 1993. The personnel have changed over the years, but Tony Tengs and Albert McDonnell have always attracted talented performers.
Riley Woodford
Riley lives in Juneau. He brought together some terrific local musicians for his Applehood and Mother Pie CD, such as Steve Nelson, Sean Tracey, Clay Good, Albert McDonnell, and Collette Costa.
Deering & Down
Lahna Deering and the Rev. Neil Down met in Skagway, Alaska, recorded their first CD five years ago in Whitehorse, Yukon Territory, and now live in Memphis. Lahna's mom, Joan, owns and operates the Paradise Cafe on Juneau's waterfront, and that's were you can usually find D&D when they are in town. For the Wounded Dove CD, they recorded a whole new version of Neil's "Prophets of Doom" at Sun Studios. Joining them is former Sam The Sham and the Pharohs drummer Kurt Ruleman and bassist John C. Stubblefield of Lucero. Learn more at:
www.deeringanddown.com
Martha Scott Stey
After living in Bethel, Alaska, for eight years, Martha moved to Juneau and married Jim Stey. She's highly regarded for her mandolin and guitar playing, as well as a fine American voice. She wrote "Ashes and Dreams" for the Wounded Dove CD.
Stewart Ely
"Flash" Ely commercial fishes out of Pelican, Alaska, and spends part of the year in Juneau, where he has been a long-time member of the local folk music scene.
Laura Sandage
Laura is part of Mudlark, (see above), but prior to that she recorded her Bloom CD with friends Katie Henry, Ray Frank, George Haver, and Cheryl Covert. Learn more at:
www.laurasandage.com
Bubba Cook
Bubba is a Navy veteran and a member of VFP Chapter 100. Originally from Texas, he now lives in Juneau. "Bring Me Home" is his first
recorded song.
Jim Fowler
The Wounded Dove CD cover art is by long-time Juneau artist Jim Fowler. See more of his work at: www.jimfowler.us
THE OTHER SONGWRITERS:
Loudon Wainwright III
Thanks, Loudon, for your great song, "Pretty Good Day," written during the war in Kosovo and updated on the Wounded Dove CD by Mike Truax. Loudon is still writing great songs. See:
www.lwiii.com
www.loudonwainwright.net
Steve Earle
Steve is hot on the trail of political songs for the People. Find out what he's up to now at:
www.steveearle.com
Eric Bogle
Transplanted from Scotland to Australia many years ago, Eric is a prolific songwriter whose work includes "And the Band Played Waltzing Matilda" and many others. Find all the lyrics and a lot more at:
ericbogle.net
Derroll Adams
Derroll really was born in Portland, Oregon. He died in 2000 at the age of 74. Find out more here.
Ed Hein
Ed conceived and produced the Wounded Dove CD -- the first time he has tackled such a project. He wrote "Peace Is Not A Four-Letter Word" specifically for this album. It is one of about a dozen songs he has written over the years. |
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WOUNDED DOVE
Alaskans Sing of War & Peace
A New Collection of 18 Songs For Our Time
Our new CD brings together some of the best singers, songwriters, and musicians in or from Alaska. Great music and powerful lyrics form a vibrant message for peace that you will want to hear and share with others. Read the lyrics below, then sample the songs and order your copies of the CD at cdbaby.com/cd/woundeddove or mail-order through Rainy Day Books in Juneau -- email: rainyday@gci.net or phone (907) 463-2665.
THE LYRICS:
Scared
Words & music by Will Putman ©2003
Been a dozen years since we fought that war
Now we’re going back, I’m not sure what for
Something about germs and chemical gas
Nuclear bombs that’ll blow our ass
Right out of the oil field, out of the patch
Knock us back till we meet our match
In a bunch of kooks that took some planes
Put some buildings up in flames
Makes me feel funny, makes me feel strange
For better or worse, things are gonna change
Well I’m just sittin’ here living my life
While Bush has got us on the road to strife
I know Saddam’s not a very nice guy
I know he’s prone to cheat and lie
And gas and bomb and kill and such
Still I wonder do I ask too much
To wonder how are we in this mess
If pressed I guess I gotta confess
I drive the car that burns the gas
I help to buy the weapons of mass
Destruction and death and flames and war
Sit on the couch and wonder what it’s for
Stealth bombers gonna fly again
While the old men argue at the UN
And the generals are making their plans
To get their blood on everyone’s hands
And feet and backs and hearts and minds
While the laser guided missiles whine
I know we Americans love a good fight
But can’t we confine it to Saturday night
On some pseudo-reality TV show
Where it all looks real but don’t you know
When you turn off the tube it’ll go away
And out of our minds, at least for today
Some 40 years ago there was a song
And everybody’d sing along
With “Eve of Destruction” and everybody cared
Now it seems we’re finally there
So what do we do about the human race
How to get George out of Saddam’s face
How to get Saddam to go away
How to get North Korea to play
By the rules, in a civil way
If we weren’t so scared, could we find a way
If we weren’t so scared….
Pretty Good Day
Words & music by Loudon Wainwright III ©1999
(as updated by Mike Truax)
I slept through the night, I got through to the dawn
I hit the switch and the light came on
I got out of bed and put some clothes on
It’s a pretty good day so far
I turned on the tap, there was cold, there was hot
I grabbed my coat to go to the shop
I stepped outside and I didn’t get shot
It’s a pretty good day so far
I didn’t hear any sirens or explosions
No mortars coming in with those heavy guns
No Humvee tanks, I didn’t see one
It’s a pretty good day so far
No snipers in windows taking a peak
Nobody running panicked and scared through the street
I didn’t see any bodies without arms, legs or feet
It’s a pretty good day
There was plasma and bandages and electricity
Food, wood and water, and the air was smoke-free
No camera crews from Fox TV
No Geraldo
It was all such a wonderful sight to behold
Nobody was frightened, wounded or cold
And the children seemed normal, they didn’t look old
It’s a pretty good day
By five o’clock I’d had enough
I finished my coffee and put away the cup
I started my car and it didn’t blow up
It’s a pretty good day so far
I slept through the night, I got through to the dawn
I got out of bed and put some clothes on
I wrote down my dream and I made it this song
It’s a pretty good day so far
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Natalee Holloway
Words & music by Buddy Tabor ©2006
We couldn’t find you in Aruba with all the tears that we wept
But it kept our minds away from the war and a trillion dollar debt
You were just a lonely high school girl about to spread her wings
When the facts aren’t fair and balanced the truth don’t mean a thing
The day you came up missing they sent the crews without delay
But they never mentioned Abramoff or the fall of Tom DeLay
Or how Jack went to the White House over 200 times
And all the bribes and money that went down, it’s bound to boggle up your mind
When the news has turned to Newspeak like in “1984”
When you wake up in this nightmare with George Orwell at your door
When the facts are all distorted and the truth becomes a lie
And the tears fall down like napalm from freedom’s bloodshot eyes
Dearest darling Natalee Holloway, I wonder if you have seen
All those flag-draped soldiers’ coffins coming from that nightmare dream
Or the tears falling down on a mother’s distressed face
Or the hole in her heart from the son she can’t replace
I wonder if your parents mind that your tragic death was used
To cover up the truth and never broadcast the real news
Stick the lies into your face, that’s bound to blind both of your eyes
While over in the war zone 50,000 souls have diedNo Man’s Land
Words & music by Eric Bogle ©1976
Well how do you do, Private William McBride
Do you mind if I sit down here by your graveside
And rest for awhile in the warm summer sun
I’ve been walking all day and I’m nearly done
And I see by your gravestone you were only 19
When you joined the glorious fallen in 1916
Well I hope you died quick and I hope you died clean
Or, Willie McBride, was it slow and obscene
Did they beat the drum slowly, did they play the pipes lowly
Did the rifles fire o’er you as they lowered you down
Did the bugles sound “The Last Post” in chorus
Did the pipes play “The Flowers of the Forest”
And did you leave a wife or a sweetheart behind
In some loyal heart is your memory enshrined
And, though you died back in 1916,
To that loyal heart are you always 19
Or are you a stranger without even a name
Forever enshrined behind some glass pane
In an old photograph, torn and tattered and stained
And fading to yellow in a brown leather frame
The sun’s shining down on these green fields of France
The warm wind blows gently, and the red poppies dance
The trenches have vanished long under the plow
No gas and no barbed wire, no guns firing now
But here in this graveyard that’s still No Man’s Land
The countless white crosses in mute witness stand
To man’s blind indifference to his fellow man
And a whole generation who were butchered and damned
And I can’t help but wonder, no Willie McBride
Do all those who lie here know why they died
Did you really believe them when they told you “The Cause”
Did you really believe that this war would end wars
Well the suffering, the sorrow, the glory, the shame
The killing, the dying, it was all done in vain
For Willie McBride, it all happened again,
And again, and again, and again, and again
War Machine
Words & music by Nancy Berland & Burl Sheldon ©2005
Red blood flows on a wasted land
Black gold oozes, oozes from the sand
“Bow down or fall down,” barks the queen
Omnipotent war machine
Jesus and Mohammed, in your name
Good and evil act the same
Spinning truth, telling lies
Gunning for the prize
We’ve got smart bombs but foolish leaders
Masters of spin
Smart bombs but foolish leaders
What a fix we’re in
Spider men, masters of spin
We see where you’re going and we know where you’ve been
Double-speak, slinging mud
You fill our tanks with blood
Free press, if you’ve got the bread
Oh, say, can you see
The rockets’ red glare bursting in your head
Bang! Your democracy’s dead
One Thing I Know
Words & music by Tony Tengs & Albert McDonnell ©2006
One thing I know, and I know it well
Peace doesn’t come from a wishing well
It doesn’t come from prayer or a lighted candle
To open a door we gotta turn the handle
We gotta lift a finger to make a change come ‘round
We gotta raise our voice, we gotta make a sound
One thing I know, and I know it well
Peace doesn’t come from a wishing well
It doesn’t come from faith ‘neath a church’s steeple
It comes from connecting with a thousand people
We gotta raise our voice, raise it loud and strong
Give the world another choice, sing a brand new song
You got a little Statue of Liberty in your pocket
You can make it shine throughout the night
When it comes to freedom you gotta rock it
You gotta hold it to the light
Peace is a good idea, it’s the best one yet
But you’re never gonna find it in your TV set
Never mind those wishes upon some star
Dreams without action won’t get us far
One thing I know, and I know it well
Peace doesn’t come from a wishing well
Peace Is Not A Four-Letter Word
Words & music by Ed Hein ©2006
Why did our country wander astray
How did we get in this mess we're in today
Where are the values we used to believe
When did we lose the American dream
The home of the brave is now stricken with fear
We've lost half our freedoms in just a few years
We're scaring the hell out of all of our friends
And making new enemies, where will it end
War is not the answer
Love is not absurd
Peace is not a four-letter word
War is not the answer
Our voices must be heard
Peace is not a four-letter word
We're sending our soldiers wherever there's oil
Will that keep war off American soil
We don't really care what the world has to pay
To give us this lifestyle we're living today
Our leaders are lying so we'll fight their war
Our young ones are dying, we've been here before
We don't want to know what is done in our name
As long as we're safe we won't feel any shame
Vets are the people familiar with war
We're telling our leaders we don't want no more
We say no to killing and torture and such
We only want peace, is that asking too much
Rich Man’s War
Words & music by Steve Earle ©2004
Jimmy joined the Army ‘cause he had no place to go
There ain’t nobody hirin’ ‘round here since all the jobs went down to Mexico
Reckoned that he’d learn himself a trade, maybe see the world
Move to the city someday and marry a black-haired girl
Somebody somewhere had another plan
Now he’s got a rifle in his hand
Rollin’ into Baghdad wonderin’ how he got this far
Just another poor boy off to fight a rich man’s war
Bobby had an eagle and flag tattooed on his arm
Red, white, and blue to the bone when he landed in Kandahar
Left behind a pretty young wife and a baby girl
A stack of overdue bills and went off to save the world
Been a year now and he’s still there
Chasin’ ghosts in the thin dry air
Meanwhile back at home the finance company took his car
Just another poor boy off to fight a rich man’s war
When will we ever learn
When will we ever see
We stand up and take our turn
And keep tellin’ ourselves we’re free
Ali was the second son of a second son
Grew up in Gaza throwing bottles and rocks when the tanks would come
Ain’t nothin’ else to do around here, just a game children play
Somethin’ ‘bout livin’ in fear all your life makes you hard that way
He answered when he got the call
Wrapped himself in death and praised Allah
A fat man in a new Mercedes drove him to the door
Just another poor boy off to fight a rich man’s war
The Ballad of King George
Words & music by Curt Terrall ©2006
Well, little King George he’s a good old boy
He’s a lot like you and me
But beneath that down-home Texas charm
Flows the oil through the family tree
Now this may sound crude, but I believe it’s true
About the mouth with the silver spoon
And even with no brain and possibly insane
From its mistakes remains immune
Back in ’84 when George was on the floor
And he was headed for the rehab ward
He was on the bottom rockin’
When he heard the knock-knock-knockin’
Hallelujah, praise the Lord
Let’s give more food to the overfed
So they can feed the hungry
More cash to the filthy rich
So they can help the poor
Let’s give more power to the President
To keep us safe and free
Let’s send more guns and bombs all around the world
To plant the seeds of democracy
Back in Y2K George had a lot to say
About peace, God, and unity
And by his friends he was appointed
But he mistook it for anointed
Karl, Dick, and George, the new Trinity
Then along came 9/11, for a moment time stood still
While the world wondered what we’d do
While little George was simply steaming
Don, Dick, and Karl were busy scheming
How to turn the corporate screw
What’s needed first was to confuse us
What better spokesman than George clueless
“They hate our morals and our liberty”
But talk was cleverly excluded
Of a war long since precluded
Or our foreign policy
Well, George says education is a really big deal
He wants no child left behind
And if we want to get smart
Cut out philosophy and art
Just get hip to intelligent design
‘Cause evolution is the devil’s liberalistic tool
We didn’t come from no chimpanzee
Well, let me tell you curious Georgie
About the primordial orgy And the great Big Bang Theory
Now you recall about the emperor without any clothes
He went parading down the avenue
It took a child with no compunction
To point out the king’s dysfunction
Hello, howdy G. W.
And it’s one, two, three, what are we fightin’ for
Our oil’s beneath their sand
Next stop will be Iran
And it’s five, six, seven, smellin’ like Watergate
You know he’s one big lie
Let’s impeach the guy
Whoopee! We’re all gonna die
Bread
Words & music by Pat Henry ©2001
We’ll shoot guided missiles at you
With a big bomb in the nose
You ain’t seen no fireworks, baby
Till you’ve set off one of those
We’ll drop smart bombs right at you
With a laser guiding those
We will guide them up your ass
We will guide them up your nose
We’ll keep bombing you all night
Till our planes run out of gas
Then they’ll go back for a refill
And when morning comes at last
We’ll drop bread
We’ll drop bread
We’ll drop bread on your head
On your head, on your head, on your head
We’ll drop bread
You should be grateful for the food
You know you should
You should be grateful for the food
You know it’s good
You should be grateful for the bread
Unless, of course, you’re dead
When we drop bread
In the next stage we'll drop money
To revive your blown-out markets
There'll be billions for your defense
There'll be billions for your pockets
We'll drop bread, we'll drop bread
We'll drop BIG bread, BIG bread, BIG bread
On your head
We'll drop bread
You should be grateful for the food
You know you should
You should be grateful for the food
You know it’s good
You should be grateful for the bread
Unless, of course, you’re dead
When we drop bread
Portland Town
Words & music by Derroll Adams ©1967
I was born in Portland town
I was born in Portland town
Yes I was, yes I was, yes I was
I was married in Portland town
I was married in Portland town
Yes I was, yes I was, yes I was
I had children one, two, three
I had children one, two, three
Yes I did, yes I did, yes I did
Jimmy and John and Frank made three
Jimmy and John and Frank made three
Yes they did, yes they did, yes they did
Sent my children off to war
Sent my children off to war
Yes they did, yes they did, yes they did
Killed my children one-two-three
Killed my children one-two-three
Yes they did, yes they did, yes they did
Murdered my babies one-two-three
Murdered my babies one-two-three
Yes they did, yes they did, yes they did
Ain’t gonna have no kids no more
Ain’t gonna have no kids no more
No I’m not, no I’m not, no I’m not
How Excellent & Civilized Are We
Words & music by Tony Tengs & Albert McDonnell ©2003
How excellent and civilized are we
No longer just from sea to shining sea
Our kingdom spans the world continually
How excellent and civilized are we
How fabulous and modernized are we
We know this ‘cause we’ve heard it on TV
Our bombs are smarter than the other’s be
How fabulous and modernized are we
How magnificently mobilized are we
Our kingdom shines for all the world to see
Our armies gleam with great technology
How magnificently mobilized are we
Uncle Sam is our Big Brother
To the world he is a “mutha”
But you know before this ends
They’ll be cryin’ “Uncle!” once again
How positively super-sized are we
Filled with food grown scientifically
We’re gonna make this world like us – McFree!
How positively super-sized are we
How absolutely sanitized are we
We know that you can only but agree
Our news is broadcast almost spotlessly
How absolutely sanitized are we
How excellent and civilized are we (our news more sanitized)
No longer just from sea to shining sea (our armies mobilized)
Our kingdom spans the world continually (we’re downright super-sized)
How excellent and civilized are we
Uncle Sam is our Big Brother
To the world he is a “mutha”
But you know before this ends
They’ll be cryin’ “Uncle!” once again
How excellent and civilized are we
No longer just from sea to shining sea
Our kingdom spans the world continually
How excellent and civilized are we
Same Old, Same Old
Words & music by Riley Woodford ©2005
There’s a new Bush burning in the new Holy Land
Where oil is more precious than the blood of the lamb
The desert’s still smokin’ from the last burnin’ Bush
Moses even lied ‘cause sometimes people need a push
There’s a man in a big black truck who doesn’t have a clue
There’s a man without a country who’s got nothing left to lose
Children in a city who died without a sob
And a boy in a bomber just doing his job
It’s the same old side of a brand new leaf
It’s the same old crime by a brand new thief
There’s fast guns and there’s slow guns
And there’s always a catch
Like the devil at the crossroads or a presidential match
Soft-hearted carnivores at the sight of bloody meat
They hate to do the killing, but they all got to eat
Prophets Of Doom
Words & music by Rev. Neil Down ©2001
Where’s this all leading to
Darlin’ I wish I knew
But I haven’t a clue
Forecast has been so grim
Pickin’s are getting slim
All around the world
All we can do is hope and pray
That we don’t do like the prophets say
And blow our little world away
Prophets of doom
Is there any room for some good news
We’re tired of hearing how we’re rapidly nearing the end
Prophets of doom
Do you have time for a kind word
Can you say something that you think
We ain’t already heard
Even my closest friend
Says he predicts the end is coming soon
I’ve tried to console him, even tried to enroll him
But there’s just no use
All we can do is hope and pray
There might be a slight delay
Before they blow our little world away
Ashes And Dreams
Words & music by Martha Scott Stey ©2006
Just look at our country
Our home is on fire
And all that we cherish
Is burning away
There’s not enough water
To beat back the flames
But there’s nothing left
We’ll have to rebuild
From ashes and dreams
This fire started
When our goal turned to greed
And our passions for power
Spread like gasoline
Burned cross the border
Raged over the sea
Destroyed our good will
We’ll have to rebuild
From ashes and dreams
All of these ashes
Are loved ones who’ve died
Civilians and soldiers
All innocent lives
We’ll gather their ashes
From the winds of all wars
And we’ll love them to life
Bury our knife
And wage war no more
Then there’ll be enough water
To refloat their dreams
We’ll build back a world
From what they could have been
Build back a nation
Of humility
That’s all we have left
We’ll have to rebuild
From ashes and dreams
That’s all we have left
Are ashes and dreams
Arthur McBride
Traditional Irish Folk Song
I once had a cousin, one Arthur McBride
Whose pleasure was walking down by the seaside
A-walking and talking and viewing the tide
If the weather be pleasant and charming
Well one day as we were out on our carefree tramp
We met Sgt. Harper and Cpl. Kremp
And a little wee drummer who roused up the camp
With his rowdy-do-do in the morning
Well good morning, good morning, the sergeant he cries
And the same to you gentlemen was our reply
Intending no harm meaning just to pass by
For it being on Christmas morning
But the sergeant says fellows, if you would enlist
It’s ten guineas in gold I will slip in your fist
And a crown in the bargain to kick up the dust
And drink the king’s health in the morning
For a soldier he lives a very fine life
And he always is blessed with a charming young wife
And he pays all his debts without sorrow or strife
And always lives pleasant and charming
And a soldier he always is decent and clean
In the finest of clothing he’s constantly seen
While other poor fellows go dirty and mean
And sup on thin gruel in the morning
Well says Arthur, I wouldn’t be proud of your clothes
For you’ve only the lend of them as I suppose
And you dare not change them one night, for you know
If you do you’ll be flogged in the morning
So we have no desire to take your advance
All hazards and dangers we barter on chance
For you’d have no scruples but to send us to France
Where we would be shot without warning
Well now, says the sergeant, I’ll have no such chat
And I neither will take it from a scowthing or brat
For if you would insult us with one other word
We’ll cut off your heads in the morning
And Arthur and I we soon took the odds
And we scarce gave them time for to draw their own blades
When the trusty shillelagh came over their heads
And bade them take that as fair warning
Then we laid that bold drummer as flat as your shoe
And we made a football of his rowdy-do-do
And threw it in the tide for to rock and to roll
And bade it a tedious returning
And for the rusty old rapiers that hung by their sides
We flung them as far as we could in the tide
Now take that you devils, cries Arthur McBride
And tempered their steel in the morning
And so to conclude and to finish disputes
We obligingly asked if they wanted recruits
For we were the lads who would give them hard clouts
And bid them look sharp in the morning
Now me and me cousin, one Arthur McBride
As we went to walking down by the seaside
Now mark ye what followed and would it betide
For it being on Christmas morning
Do You Want Peace?
Words & music by Laura Sandage ©2003
There is one big question
We all must ask ourselves
Would we rather build a heaven together
Or fight our way to hell
You’ve got a devil on your shoulder
With those big ideas he sells
You can leave him be
And put your money on the angels
Do you want peace, or do you want to be right
Do you want love, or do you want to fight
You want to celebrate
Or would you rather have an altercation
Do you want to build, or do you want to tear down
Are you gonna smile right now or frown
You will make your choice
For destruction or creation
This question is so simple
But we ain’t doin’ too well
We think that peace is far away
Like a distant ringing bell
You know what peace looks like
And you love its taste and smell
Reach down in your heart
And bring the bucket up from the well
Do you want peace (peace, peace)
Do you want love (love, love)
Do you want joy to shower you from above
There’s no more fighting to be done
When you see yourself in everyone
You don’t care who wins
You’ve suddenly had enough
You will make your choice
For extinction or preservation
You will make your choice
For togetherness or separation
Bring Me Home
Words & music by Bubba Cook ©2006
I’m a soldier in the Army
I’m a good American
I gave my life to God and country
And I’d do it all again
I’m just a naive boy from Austin
Thought that war was just a game
After my first day out in Baghdad
I could only hang my head in shame
Saw a little girl stranded in the street
A bullet took her down before I could reach my feet
Just bring me home
Just bring me home
It’s been 12 months since I got here
I’ve seen things that no man should
I lost my best friend in Fallujah
And I’d trade places if I could
He left a wife and two young babies
His parents took it really hard
And the country that he fought for
Just gave him a medal and a card
I’ll never forget the day I saw him leave
A flag-draped coffin no one else was allowed to see
Just bring me home
Just bring me home
I can’t close my eyes, I can’t dream
It’s been four days since I slept
I can’t get these horrible scenes out of my mind
In the darkness last night I just wept
It seems some men in D.C. told big lies
And now I sit here in the sand
But none of their kids had to come here
To take part in their master plan
Somebody tell me what I’m doing here today
Tell me why my friends and I should have to stay
Just bring me home
Just bring me home
Just bring me home
Just bring me home
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