Woody Guthrie (e cover di altri artisti)

Jesus Christ was a man who traveled through the land
Hard working man and brave
He said to the rich, "Give your goods to the poor."
So they laid Jesus Christ in his grave.

Jesus was a man, a carpenter by hand
His followers true and brave
One dirty little coward called Judas Iscariot
Has laid Jesus Christ in his grave

He went to the sick, he went to the poor,
And he went to the hungry and the lame;
Said that the poor would one day win this world,
And so they laid Jesus Christ in his grave.

He went to the preacher, he went to the sheriff,
Told them all the same;
Sell all of your jewelry and give it to the Poor,
But they laid Jesus Christ in his grave.

When Jesus came to town, the working folks around,
Believed what he did say;
The bankers and the preachers they nailed him on a cross,
And they laid Jesus Christ in his grave.

Poor working people, they follered him around,
Sung and shouted gay;
Cops and the soldiers, they nailed him in the air,
And they nailed Jesus Christ in his grave.

Well the people held their breath when they heard about his death,
And everybody wondered why;
It was the landlord and the soldiers that he hired.
That nailed Jesus Christ in the sky.

When the love of the poor shall one day turn to hate.
When the patience of the workers gives away
"Would be better for you rich if you never had been born"
So they laid Jesus Christ in his grave.

This song was written in New York City
Of rich men, preachers and slaves
Yes, if Jesus was to preach like he preached in Galillee,
They would lay Jesus Christ in his grave.

Rainy night down in the engine house
Sleepin' just as still as a mouse
A man came along and chase us out in the rain
Well was that a vigilante man?

Stormy days, we pass the time away
Sleeping in some good warm place
A cop come along we give him a little race
Say was that a vigilante man?

Well tell me why does a vigilante man
Tell me why does a vigilante man
Carry that sawed off shotgun in his hands
To shoot his brothers and sisters down that no good vigilante man

Well I ramble around from town to town
Yeah I ramble around from town to town
Yeah and they run us around like a wild herd of cattle lord
is that your vigilante man?

Well tell me why does a vigilante man
Tell me why does a vigilante man
Carry that club in his hands
Would he beat an innocent man down that no good vigilante man

Many a month has come and gone
Since I’ve wandered from my home
In those Oklahoma Hills
Where I was born
Many a page of my life has turned
Many lessons I have learned
And I feel like in those hills
Where I belong

CHORUS:
Way down yonder in the Indian nation
Ridin’ my pony on the reservation
In the Oklahoma Hills where I was born
Way down yonder in the Indian nation
A cowboy’s life is my occupation
In the Oklahoma Hills where I was born

But as I sit here today
Many miles I am away
From the place I rode my pony
Through the draw
Where the oak and black-jack trees
Kiss the playful prairie breeze
And I feel back in those hills
Where I belong

CHORUS

Now as I turn life a page
To the land of the great Osage
In those Oklahoma hills
Where I was born
Where the black oil rolls and flows
And the snow white cotton grows
And I feel like in those hills
Where I belong

CHORUS

The crops are all in and the peaches are rotting
The oranges are filed in their creosote dumps
They're flying 'em back to the Mexico border
To take all their money to wade back again

Goodbye to my Juan, farewell Roselita
Adios mes amigos, Jesus e Maria
You won't have a name when you ride the big airplane
All they will call you will be deportees

My father's own father, he waded that river
They took all the money he made in his life
It's six hundred miles to the Mexico border
And they chased them like rustlers, like outlaws, like thieves

The skyplane caught fire over Los Gatos Canyon
The great ball of fire it shook all our hills
Who are these dear friends who are falling like dry leaves?
Radio said, "They are just deportees"

Is this the best way we can grow our big orchards?
Is this the best way we can raise our good crops?
To fall like dry leaves and rot on out topsoil
And be known by no names except "deportees"

Go to sleep you weary hobo
Let the towns drift slowly by
Can't you hear the steel rail humming
That's a hobo's lullaby

Do not think about tomorrow
Let tomorrow come and go
Tonight you're in a nice warm boxcar
Safe from all the wind and snow

I know the police cause you trouble
They cause trouble everywhere
But when you die and go to heaven
You won't find no policemen there

I know your clothes are torn and ragged
And your hair is turning grey
Lift your head and smile at trouble
You'll find happiness some day

So go to sleep you weary hobo
Let the towns drift slowly by
Don't you feel the steel rail humming
That's a hobo's lullaby

Roll on, Columbia, roll on
Roll on, Columbia, roll on
Your power is turning our darkness to dawn
So roll on, Columbia, roll on

Green Douglas firs where the waters cut through
Down her wild mountains and canyons she flew
Canadian Northwest to the oceans so blue
Roll on Columbia, roll on

Other great rivers add power to you
Yakima, Snake, and the Klickitat, too
Sandy Willamette and Hood River too
So roll on, Columbia, roll on

Tom Jefferson's vision would not let him rest
An empire he saw in the Pacific Northwest
Sent Lewis and Clark and they did the rest
So roll on, Columbia, roll on

It's there on your banks that we fought many a fight
Sheridan's boys in the blockhouse that night
They saw us in death but never in flight
So roll on Columbia, roll on

At Bonneville now there are ships in the locks
The waters have risen and cleared all the rocks
Shiploads of plenty will steam past the docks
So roll on, Columbia, roll on

And on up the river is Grand Coulee Dam
The mightiest thing ever built by a man
To run the great factories and water the land
So roll on, Columbia, roll on

These mighty men labored by day and by night
Matching their strength 'gainst the river's wild flight
Through rapids and falls, they won the hard fight
So roll on, Columbia, roll on

I've sung this song, and I'll sing it again
Of the place where I lived, on the wild windy plain
In a month called April, a county called Gray
Here is what all of the people there say: (Well, it's...)

cho:
So long, it's been good to know yuh;
So long, it's been good to know yuh;
So long, it's been good to know yuh.
But this dusty old dust is a-gettin' my home
And I've gotta be driftin' along.

Well the dust storm came, it came like thunder
It dusted us over, it dusted us under;
It blocked all the traffic and blocked out the sun,
And straightway for home all the people did run (singin'...)

cho:

The sweethearts sat in the dark and they sparked,
They hugged and they kissed in that dusty old dark;
They sighed and they cried and they hugged and they kissed
But instead of marriage, they were talkin' like this: (Honey,...)

cho:

The telephone rang. It jumped off the wall,
That was the preacher, a-makin' his call.
He said, "Kind friends, this may the end
You have your last chance at salvation from sin!"

cho: (optional this time)

Well, the churches was jammed and the churches was packed,
But that dusty old dust storm it blew so black
That the preacher could not read a word of his text,
So he folded his specs, took up a collection, (Sayin'...)

cho:

This land is your land and this land is my land,
From the 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 went wakin' that ribbon of highway,
I saw above me that endless skyway,
Saw below me, that golden valley,
This land was made for you and me.

I roamed and rambled and I follered my footsteps,
To the sparklin' sands of her diamond deserts,
All around me, a voice was sounding,
This land was made for you and me.

When the sun comes shining, then I was stolling,
And the wheat fields waving, and the dust clouds rolling,
The voice was chanting as the fog was lifting,
This land was made for you and me.

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

When the sun comes shinin' and I was stollin',
The wheat fields wavin' and the dust clouds rollin',
The voice comes chanting and the fog was lifting,
This land was made for you and me.