Audacity of Trivia 214: Happy Birthday America!

A very special 250th birthday celebration! Jon and Chris review selected songs from the history of recorded music. 

 

"America the Beautiful" as recorded by Ray Charles, 1972; lyrics by Katherine Lee Bates, 1893

O beautiful for pilgrim feet,
Whose stern, impassioned stress
A thoroughfare for freedom beat
Across the wilderness!
America! America!
God mend thine every flaw,
Confirm thy soul in self-control,
Thy liberty in law!
O beautiful for heroes proved
In liberating strife,
Who more than self their country loved
And mercy more than life!
America! America!
May God thy gold refine,
Till all success be nobleness,
And every gain divine!
O beautiful for patriot dream
That sees beyond the years
Thine alabaster cities gleam
Undimmed by human tears!
America! America!
God shed His grace on thee
And crown thy good with brotherhood
From sea to shining sea!

 

"The Power and the Glory" by Phil Ochs, 1964

Come on and take a walk with me through this green and growing land

Walk through the meadows and the mountains and the sand

Walk through the valleys and the rivers and the plains

Walk through the sun and walk through the rain

Here is a land full of power and glory

Beauty that words cannot recall

Oh, her power shall rest on the strength of her freedom

Glory shall rest on us all

From Colorado, Kansas, and the Carolinas too

Virginia and Alaska, from the old to the new

Texas and Ohio and the California shore

Tell me, who could ask for more?

Yet she's only as rich as the poorest of the poor

Only as free as a padlocked prison door

Only as strong as our love for this land

Only as tall as we stand

Here is a land full of power and glory

Beauty that words cannot recall

Oh, her power shall rest on the strength of her freedom

Glory shall rest on us all, on us all

 

“The Times They Are A Changin’” by Bob Dylan, 1963

Come gather ‘round people

Wherever you roam

And admit that the waters

Around you have grown

And accept it that soon

You’ll be drenched to the bone

If your time to you is worth savin’;

Then you better start swimmin’;

Or you’ll sink like a stone

For the times they are a-changin’;

Come writers and critics

Who prophesize with your pen

And keep your eyes wide

The chance won’t come again

And don’t speak too soon

For the wheel’s still in spin

And there’s no tellin’ who that it’s namin’;

For the loser now

Will be later to win

For the times they are a-changin’;

Come senators, congressmen

Please heed the call

Don’t stand in the doorway

Don’t block up the hall

For he that gets hurt

Will be he who has stalled

The battle outside ragin’;

Will soon shake your windows

And rattle your walls

For the times they are a-changin’;

Come mothers and fathers

Throughout the land

And don’t criticize

What you can’t understand

Your sons and your daughters

Are beyond your command

Your old road is rapidly agin’;

Please get out of the new one

If you can’t lend your hand

For the times they are a-changin’;

The line it is drawn

The curse it is cast

The slow one now

Will later be fast

As the present now

Will later be past

The order is rapidly fadin’;

And the first one now

Will later be last

For the times they are a-changin’

 

“War Isn’t Murder” by Jesse Welles, 2024

War isn't murder

Good men don't die

Children don't starve

And all women survive

War isn't murder

That's what they say

When you're fighting the devil

Murder's okay

War isn't murder

They're called casualties

There ain't a veteran

With a good night's sleep

Let's talk about dead people

I mean a dead people

The dead don't feel honored

They don't feel that brave

They don't feel avenged

They're lucky if they got graves

Call your dead mother

Ask her when she died

It's a deathly silence on the other line

The dead don't talk

But their children don't forget

So in 20 short years

You could live to regret that

War isn't murder

There's money at stake

Hell, even Kushner agrees

It's good real estate

War isn't murder

Ask Netanyahu

He's got a psalm for that

And a bomb for you

War isn't murder

It's an old-desert faith

It's a nation-state-sanctioned righteous hate

Let's talk about dead people

I mean a dead people

War isn't murder

It's the vengeance of God

If you can't see the bodies

They don't bloat when they rot

And the flies don't swarm

And the children don't cry

If war isn't murder

Good men don't die

So in a short 20 years

When you vacation the Strip

Don't think about the dead

And have a nice trip

War isn't murder

We should all give thanks

I saw it all in a movie

Give it up for Tom Hanks

War isn't murder

They don't ship out the poor

And the bullets they fire

Aren't part of the cure

War isn't murder

Land is a right

But the banks called dibs

It's something you can't fight

Let's talk about dead people

I mean a dead people

The dead don't feel honor

They don't feel that brave

They don't feel avenged

They're lucky if they got graves

War isn't murder

Ain't a river of blood

Stretching all through time

And raining down in a flood

It's a dark sacrifice

Made on your behalf

So get down on your knees

And thank the sweet lord that

War isn't murder

 

“Brother, Can You Spare a Dime,” by E.Y. Harburg, 1932

They used to tell me I was building a dream
And so I followed the mob
When there was earth to plow or guns to bear
I was always there, right on the job
They used to tell me I was building a dream
With peace and glory ahead
Why should I be standing in line

Just waiting for bread?
Once I built a railroad, I made it run
Made it race against time
Once I built a railroad, now it's done
Brother, can you spare a dime?
Once I built a tower up to the sun
Brick and rivet and lime
Once I built a tower, now it's done
Brother, can you spare a dime?
Once in khaki suits, gee, we looked swell
Full of that Yankee Doodly Dum
Half a million boots went slogging through Hell
And I was the kid with the drum
Say, don't you remember? They called me Al;
It was Al all the time
Why don't you remember? I'm your pal
Say buddy, can you spare a dime?
Once in khaki suits, ah, gee, we looked swell
Full of that Yankee Doodly Dum
Half a million boots went slogging through Hell
And I was the kid with the drum
Oh, say, don't you remember? They called me Al;
It was Al all the time
Say, don't you remember? I'm your pal
Buddy, can you spare a dime?

 

“Strange Fruit” by Abel Meeropol [Lewis Allan], 1939

Southern trees bear strange fruit

Blood on the leaves and blood at the root

Black bodies swinging in the southern breeze

Strange fruit hanging from the poplar trees

Pastoral scene of the gallant south

The bulging eyes and the twisted mouth

Scent of magnolias, sweet and fresh

Then the sudden smell of burning flesh

Here’s a fruit for the crows to pluck

For the rain to gather, for the wind to suck

For the sun to rot, for the trees to drop

Here’s a strange and bitter crop

 

“Mr President Have Pity on the Working Man” by Randy Newman, 1974

We've taken all you've given

It's gettin' hard to make a livin'

Mr. President, have pity on the working man

We ain't asking you to love us

You may place yourself high above us

Mr. President, have pity on the working man

I know it may sound funny

But people ev'ry where are runnin' out of money

We just can't make it by ourself

It is cold and the wind is blowing

We need something to keep us gong

Mr. President, have pity on the working man

Maybe you're cheatin'

Maybe you're lyin'

Maybe you have lost your mind

Maybe you only think about yourself

Too late to run, too late to cry now

The time has come for us to say good-bye now

Mr. President, have pity on the working man

Mr. President, have pity on the working man

 

“American Tune” by Paul Simon, 1973 

Many's the time I've been mistaken

And many times confused

Yes, and I've often felt forsaken

And certainly misused

Oh, but I'm alright, I'm alright

I'm just weary to my bones

Still, you don't expect to be bright and bon vivant

So far away from home, so far away from home

And I don't know a soul who's not been battered

I don't have a friend who feels at ease

I don't know a dream that's not been shattered

Or driven to its knees

But it's alright, it's alright

For we lived so well so long

Still, when I think of the

Road we're traveling on

I wonder what's gone wrong

I can't help it, I wonder what has gone wrong

And I dreamed I was dying

I dreamed that my soul rose unexpectedly

And looking back down at me

Smiled reassuringly

And I dreamed I was flying

And high up above my eyes could clearly see

The Statue of Liberty

Sailing away to sea

And I dreamed I was flying

We come on the ship they call The Mayflower

We come on the ship that sailed the moon

We come in the age's most uncertain hours

And sing an American tune

Oh, and it's alright, it's alright, it's alright

You can't be forever blessed

Still, tomorrow's going to be another working day

And I'm trying to get some rest

That's all I'm trying to get some rest

 

“Lift Every Voice and Sing” by James Weldon Johnson and J. Rosemond Johnson, 1905

Lift every voice and sing

Till earth and heaven ring,

Ring with the harmonies of Liberty;

Let our rejoicing rise

High as the listening skies,

Let it resound loud as the rolling sea.

Sing a song full of the faith that the dark past has taught us,

Sing a song full of the hope that the present has brought us,

Facing the rising sun of our new day begun

Let us march on till victory is won.

Stony the road we trod,

Bitter the chastening rod,

Felt in the days when hope unborn had died;

Yet with a steady beat,

Have not our weary feet

Come to the place for which our fathers sighed?

We have come over a way that with tears has been watered,

We have come, treading our path through the blood of the slaughtered,

Out from the gloomy past,

Till now we stand at last

Where the white gleam of our bright star is cast.

God of our weary years,

God of our silent tears,

Thou who has brought us thus far on the way;

Thou who has by Thy might Led us into the light,

Keep us forever in the path, we pray.

Lest our feet stray from the places, our God, where we met Thee,

Lest, our hearts drunk with the wine of the world, we forget Thee;

Shadowed beneath Thy hand,

May we forever stand.

True to our God,

True to our native land.

 

“This Train,” as recorded by Sister Rosetta Tharpe

This train is a clean train, you know this train

This train is a clean train, I said this train

This train is a clean train, everybody ride it in Jesus' name

Because this train is a clean train, Lord, this train

This train has left the station, you know this train

This train has left the station, I said this train

This train has left the station, this train takes on every nation

Because this train is a clean train, you know this train

It's the prettiest train I ever have seen, Lord, this train

It's the prettiest train I ever have seen, oh, this train

It's the prettiest train I ever have seen

Now, if you wanna ride it, you must get redeemed

Because this train is a clean train, Lord, this train

This train is bound for glory, woo, this train

This train is bound for glory, I said this train

This train is bound for glory, everybody ridin' her must be holy

Because this train is a clean train, you know this train

You know this train don't pull no jokers, uh-uh, this train

This train don't pull no jokers, no, this train

I said this train don't pull no jokers

No tobacco chewers and no cigar smokers

Because this train is a clean train, you know this train

This train don't pull no wankers, uh-uh, this train

This train don't pull no wankers, oh, this train

This train don't pull no wankers, no crap shooter, no whiskey drinker

Because this train is a clean train, this train

 

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