Artist & Tune

About the Song

  1. It's blowing in the wind again, it's drifting in the rain
    Before the dead have moldered yet or wounded healed their pain
    I am so old, my grandsons, that I remember when
    I marched to hail the Armistice - I was barely 10


    That was the war to end all wars to save democracy
    Praise God, they said, we've won the peace
    For all eternity
    I marched for Spain when some years passed
    And marched & marched & then
    Another war to end all wars & So I marched again

    I marched in Minneapolis, Chicago & Duluth
    In San Francisco & New York, I marched to shout the truth
    I marched in Hiroshima & knealt before a stash
    Of tens of millions bones of people atomized to ash
    And with the distant rumble of new regiments of men
    I read the warning on the tomb: "This must not be again"

    I marched to staunch Korea's blood, I marched for Vietnam
    I marched to stop the napalm & I marched to stop the bomb
    I marched & marched & marched, Oh Lord- I'm sure I've done my due
    I marched since I was barely 10 & now I'm 72

  2. I should be lying in the sun or dreaming in the grass
    But how, when generals everywhere are polishing their brass
    Entranced with dreams of four-star roles - so help me, lord, they're glad
    It's said that whom the gods destroy, they first must render mad

    Their burning eyes see no-man's land & armies poised for action
    And you, my warm and loving ones, you're merely an abstraction

    It's geopolitics again & oh, with what finesse
    The players push their pawns about, these masterminds of chess
    How cunningly they plot each move, how skillfully they spar
    And checkmate one another like the masters that they are

    How stimulating, how intense, a world to lose or gain
    Except for one dismaying fact, the players are insane
    Controlled, dispassionate they play this game that madness spawns
    And I can't even look away- my children are the pawns

    [Chorus]

    3. Some people keep on fighting when they've lost an arm or leg
    Some still keep up the struggle when they're fragile as an egg
    I've heard men rasping, "I object!" with voices turned to gravel
    I've seen a woman raise a fist who couldn't lift a gavel

    And even with a broken heart, one still can make a stand
    So lead, my children, lead the way- reach back & take my hand
    We'll march again, confound them all- don't quibble at my age
    I'll shield you with my brittle bones- I'll nourish you with rage

    [Chorus]

    © 1980, Words by Irene Paul, Music by Barbara Tilson