We, The Woodstock Generation

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We, the favoured of the nation,

Made the loudest of demands.

We, the Woodstock generation,

Had the whole world in our hands

And we won the prize we fought for

We were free to grow in peace

So we never grew a thought for

Joining any ‘thought’ police


We, the Woodstock Generation,

Had the whole world in our hands


We called ‘time’ on bombing Hanoi

We said dolphins needed space

We sang ‘Ban the Bomb’ on tannoy

We would save the human race.

Making love and sharing money,

Who’d have thought we’d turn that round?

We discovered it was funny

Taking everything we found.


Oil from Russia, gas from Asia,

Coal from Poland, fish for free,

Copper, diamonds, silk and timber,

More for you, and more for me.

Why not work a little harder,

Then climb further up the tree,

Add some extras to the larder,

Buy a condo by the sea?


We, the Woodstock Generation,

Had the whole world in our hands


Making customers of babies

Growing profits from the poor

Lending them the cash to pay us

Just to make the markets soar!

Burning fuel for food and shelter

Burning more with every child

Growing every population

But the creatures of the wild


Growing rich on daily rumours

Of new customers we’ve found

Unconcerned that more consumers

Means there’s less to go around.

When we’re running out of water

Will we want to share our tank?

Taking more out than we oughta

Means we’ve nothing in the bank.


We, the Woodstock Generation,

Had the whole world in our hands


Now the air is turning darker

Mass production dulls the sky

Every acre lost’s a marker

For a species that will die

Yet the juggernaut keeps turning

Keeps on grinding down the field

Automatically learning

How to maximise the yield


Did we want this for our children?
Did we think of them at all?

In our money-making cauldron

Did we see our neighbours fall?

Lions, tigers, dolphins, pandas –

None will last a hundred years.

Nor will trees that used to stand

As forests harbouring our fears


We, the Woodstock Generation,

Had the whole world in our hands


Gone the freedom, lost in purdah,

No more hiding in the rush.

Gone to Generals planning murder

To avoid the final crush.

Leave the TV. Let us mingle

Skin to skin and wall to wall

Sing the song of how a single

Generation had it all


Words and Music © Garvin Crawford


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