As Laura Clawson wrote earlier today, this country is about to see a plague of evictions and foreclosures as bad or worse than the Great Depression. This reminded me of the loudest voice for the dispossessed in those time, folk singer Woody Guthrie.
Woody is known for writing “This Land Is Your Land.” What is less well known is that songbook publishers have expunged three stanzas from the song, including its final two stanzas, stripping the song of much of its meaning.
Censored lyrics from “This Land Is Your Land”
As I went walking I saw a sign there
And on the sign it said "No Trespassing."
But on the other side it didn't say nothing,
That side was made for you and me.
[…]
In the shadow of the steeple I saw my people,
By the relief office I seen my people;
As they stood there hungry, I stood there asking
Is this land made for you and me?
Nobody living can ever stop me,
As I go walking that freedom highway;
Nobody living can ever make me turn back
This land was made for you and me.
[source: woodyguthrie.org]
Woody wrote many lyrics that resonate today.
“I Ain’t Got No Home” could have been written yesterday but the final stanza is particularly apt.
Now as I look around, it's mighty plain to see
This world is such a great and a funny place to be;
Oh, the gamblin' man is rich an' the workin' man is poor,
And I ain't got no home in this world anymore.
Many years ago I heard an old recording of a story Woody Guthrie told on his Los Angeles radio sometime in the 1930’s. Andrew Rilstone has a version that doesn’t quite have Woody’s charm or the banker’s cruelty, so I’ll that a swing at telling it.
The Story of the One-Eyed Banker
There once was this one-eyed banker. He spent a fortune having a glass eye fashioned. He was very proud of it and knew that nobody could tell which eye was which. Now this banker was known in town for tormenting farmers trying to grow crops and survive the bad times.
One day the banker went out to a farm suffering from too much dust and too little rain.
“You ain’t paid your mortgage,” the banker said. “It’s past due and I’m here to take your farm today.”
“You know I can’t pay you until my crops come in,” the farmer replied.
“You know I don’t care none about that. But, I’m a fair man,” the banker lied. “I’ll make you a wager. If you can tell me which of these is my glass eye I’ll let you keep your farm for another two months.”
The farmer looked the banker up and down. His fine leather shoes, his tailored pin-stripped suit, his diamond stickpin. The farmer in is sweat stained dusty overalls look the banker square in the eyes.
Then the farmer backed away a couple of steps and said, “You’re left eye. You’re left eye is made of glass.”
The banker was surprised and upset ‘cause he hated losing a wager.
“How could you tell,” the banker snarled.
The farmer replied, “I looked at both eyes. One was cold and lifeless and soulless. The other had a faint, tiny spark of human compassion. I knew that one had to be made out of glass.”
One more song that should be our modern anthem.
All You Fascists
I’m gonna tell you fascists
You may be surprised
The people in this world
Are getting organized
You’re bound to lose
You fascists bound to lose
Race hatred cannot stop us
This one thing we know
Your poll tax and Jim Crow
And greed has got to go
You’re bound to lose
You fascists bound to lose.
All of you fascists bound to lose:
I said, all of you fascists bound to lose:
Yes sir, all of you fascists bound to lose:
You’re bound to lose! You fascists:
Bound to lose!
People of every color
Marching side to side
Marching ‘cross these fields
Where a million fascists dies
You’re bound to lose
You fascists bound to lose!
I’m going into this battle
And take my union gun
We’ll end this world of slavery
Before this battle’s won
You’re bound to lose
You fascists bound to lose!