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Little boxes on the hillside,
Little boxes made of ticky tacky, Little boxes on the hillside, Little boxes all the same. There's a green one and a pink one And a blue one and a yellow one, And they're all made out of ticky tacky And they all look just the same. And the people in the houses All went to the university, Where they were put in boxes And they came out all the same, And there's doctors and lawyers, And business executives, And they're all made out of ticky tacky And they all look just the same. And they all play on the golf course And drink their martinis dry, And they all have pretty children And the children go to school, And the children go to summer camp And then to the university, Where they are put in boxes And they come out all the same. And the boys go into business And marry and raise a family In boxes made of ticky tacky And they all look just the same. There's a green one and a pink one And a blue one and a yellow one, And they're all made out of ticky tacky And they all look just the same. |
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Oh Sergeant I'm a draftee and I've just arrived in camp.
I've come to wear the uniform and join the martial tramp. And I want to do my duty, but one thing I do implore You must give me lessons, sergeant, for I've never killed before. To do my job obediently is my only desire. To learn my weapon thoroughly and how to aim and fire. To learn to kill the enemy and then to slaughter more, I'll need instruction, sergeant, for I've never killed before. Now there are several lessons that I haven't mastered yet. I haven't got the hang of how to use the bayonet. If he doesn't die at once am I to stick him with it more? Oh, I hope you will be patient, for I've never killed before. Oh, there are rumors in the camp about our enemy. They say that when you see him he looks just like you and me. But you deny it, Sergeant, and you are a man of war, So you must give me lessons, for I've never killed before. The hand grenade is something that I just don't understand. You've got to throw it quickly or you're apt to lose your hand. Does it blow a man to pieces with it's wicked, muffled roar? Oh, I've got so much to learn because I've never killed before. Oh, I want to thank you, Sergeant, for the help you've been to me. For you've taught me how to slaughter and to hate the enemy. And I know that I'll be ready when they march me off to war, And I know that it won't matter that I've never killed before. And I know that it won't matter that I've never killed before. |
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Side B | ||||||
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What did you learn in school today,
Dear little boy of mine? What did you learn in school today, Dear little boy of mine? I learned that Washington never told a lie. I learned that soldiers seldom die. I learned that everybody's free, And that's what the teacher said to me. Chorus That's what I learned in school today, That's what I learned in school. What did you learn in school today, Dear little boy of mine? What did you learn in school today, Dear little boy of mine? I learned that policemen are my friends. I learned that justice never ends. I learned that murderers die for their crimes Even if we make a mistake sometimes. Chorus What did you learn in school today, Dear little boy of mine? What did you learn in school today, Dear little boy of mine? I learned our Government must be strong; It's always right and never wrong; Our leaders are the finest men And we elect them again and again. Chorus What did you learn in school today, Dear little boy of mine? What did you learn in school today, Dear little boy of mine? I learned that war is not so bad; I learned about the great ones we have had; We fought in Germany and in France And someday I might get my chance. Chorus |
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King Henry marched forth, a sword in his hand
Two thousand horsemen all at his command In a fortnight the rivers ran red through the land The year, fifteen hundred and twenty The year is now nineteen sixty five It's easier far to stay alive Just keep your mouth shut while the planes zoom and dive Ten thousand miles over the ocean Simon was drafted in sixty-three In sixty-four, sent over the sea Last month this letter he sent to me He said, "You won't like what I'm saying" He said, We've no friends here, no hardly a one We've got a few generals who just want our guns But it will take more than them if we're ever to win Why, we'll have to flatten the country It's my own troops I have to watch out for, he said I sleep with a pistol right under my head He wrote this last month, last week he was dead And Simon came home in a casket I mind my own business, I watch my TV Complain about taxes, but pay anyway In a civilized manner, my forefathers betray Who long ago struggled for freedom But each day a new headline screams at my bluff On TV some general says, "We must be tough" In my dreams I stare at this family I love All gutted and spattered with napalm King Henry marched forth, a sword in his hand Two thousand horsemen all at his command In a fortnight the rivers ran red through the land The year, fifteen hundred and twenty The year is now nineteen sixty five It's easier far to stay alive Just keep your mouth shut while the planes zoom and dive Ten thousand miles over the ocean |
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I got a job in a factory
Feeding a beast that don't like me It don't give a darn about how I feel As long as I feed it its ration of steel And pity the man who knows the grief That comes with the bite of that monster's teeth Pity the man who knows the grief That comes with the bite of that monster's teeth Watch your mitts at the start of the stroke It's a re-peat killer, and will go for broke It shoulda been melted 'bout twenty years back But it feeds the boss and he loves that snack Oh Beast, spare my hands I'll use them to slay you if I get the chance Oh Beast, spare my hands I'll use them to slay you if I get the chance There ain't no guards to slow up a man Keep your foot on the pedal and your eye on the ram If your hand should slip, why the boss don't shout He just buys new fingers as he throws you out There's plenty of hands to feed the jaws The press don't stop when there ain't no cause There's plenty of hands to feed the jaws The press don't stop when there ain't no cause There ain't one man out on the press Who wouldn't quit if jobs weren't scarce But a man has to have his daily meal And that Beast's gotta have its cold rolled steel Deep inside remain the dreams That make us the masters of the machines While deep inside remain the dreams That make us the masters of the machines Well, now, I got a job in a factory Feeding a beast that don't like me It don't give a darn about how I feel As long as I feed it its ration of steel Long as I feed it its ration of steel |
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