It snowed all night the day I left Kentucky.
The Middle Fork was choked with ice and snow.
Left sixteen years and all my friends behind me.
Somehow I had to be the first to go.
My mama baked all night before I left her.
At supper there was not too much to say.
My Daddy put his arm around my shoulder.
He said, "Son, I hope we'll see you home some day."
So don't you play no sad songs on the jukebox.
I've heard 'em all a hundred times before.
And excuse me if I seem a little crazy.
You see, this is my first time at a war.
It froze the night before we left the trenches.
The fields ahead were caked with mud and snow.
With nothing to depend on but our fortune,
I knew I'd be among the first to go.
They treat me pretty good here at the rest home.
The sheets upon my bed are snowy white.
The nurses say that supper's almost ready.
Mama, don't you set a place for me tonight.
So don't you play no sad songs on the jukebox.
I've heard 'em all a hundred times before.
And excuse me if I seem a little crazy.
You see, this is my first time at a war.
The Middle Fork was choked with ice and snow.
Left sixteen years and all my friends behind me.
Somehow I had to be the first to go.
My mama baked all night before I left her.
At supper there was not too much to say.
My Daddy put his arm around my shoulder.
He said, "Son, I hope we'll see you home some day."
So don't you play no sad songs on the jukebox.
I've heard 'em all a hundred times before.
And excuse me if I seem a little crazy.
You see, this is my first time at a war.
It froze the night before we left the trenches.
The fields ahead were caked with mud and snow.
With nothing to depend on but our fortune,
I knew I'd be among the first to go.
They treat me pretty good here at the rest home.
The sheets upon my bed are snowy white.
The nurses say that supper's almost ready.
Mama, don't you set a place for me tonight.
So don't you play no sad songs on the jukebox.
I've heard 'em all a hundred times before.
And excuse me if I seem a little crazy.
You see, this is my first time at a war.
envoyé par Bernart - 19/7/2013 - 14:06
×
![]()
Parole e musica di Si Kahn.
Nell’album intitolato “New Wood” del 1975
Testo trovato su Mudcat Café.
16 anni, la chiamata alle armi, la Grande Guerra ed il ritorno. Sì, ma in una casa di riposo, una clinica per malati mentali…
Si Kahn scrisse questa canzone nel 1968 quando fu richiamato per un corso di addestramento militare. Si trovò insieme a molti neri e a qualche bianco. I neri erano particolarmente numerosi perché tutti quelli che erano stati arrestati durante i disordini seguiti all’assassinio di Martin Luther King erano stati costretti a scegliere tra tre anni di galera o tre di ferma; i ragazzi bianchi erano invece tutti provenienti da famiglie poverissime, gente che non aveva altra scelta che arruolarsi. Si Kahn era un riservista e finito il corso se ne tornò a casa… Molti dei suoi giovanissimi compagni finirono invece ammazzati in Vietnam. (Si Kahn Songbook)