We, The Woodstock Generation
Play MP3
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
Would you like to record this song?
Can you contact someone who might like to record it?
Or do you know someone who might want to hear it?
Email This Page to them
Want to hear new songs when they are posted?
Join my mailing list here
Would you like to make a comment about the song?
Say what kind of arrangement it should have?
Can you think of someone you think I should invite to record it?
Please rate the song and leave your comments in the box below.
Thank you.