I'll tell you of a man named Fred
I knew him full and well
He worked for Peace and Freedom
He said that war is hell
We worked together side by side
and tho' we both were young
Many the pain we shared
and many the song we sung
He wouldn't fight a war
wouldn't carry a gun
He wouldn't kill a man
or hurt anyone
Oh what are you doing
with your dirty little war?
A man with so much loving
will never live no more.
Within a little village
So far away from home
He worked to live a life
To make Laos his own
Within his heart was anguish
Within his heart was pain
For he knew "American"
Was branded to his name.
Oh what are you doing
with your dirty little war?
A man with so much loving
will never live no more.
And so they came and killed him
For the brand he bore
They didn't understand
He had naught to do with war
They didn't understand
He offered only love
He had no other reason
No orders from above.
Oh what are you doing
with your dirty little war?
A man with so much loving
will never live no more.
And yet I sit & wonder
I sit & wonder, why?
There are many thousand men --
Why any man must die
They all had a sweetheart
Or maybe a bride
They all had lovin'
And now they all have died.
Oh what are you doing
with your dirty little war?
A man with so much loving
will never live no more.
There are many thousand women
Whose hearts are town in twain
There are many thousand babies
Who know only a name
There are many thousand mothers
And fathers and friends
There'll be many thousand tears
Before this killing ends.
Why must we fight a war
Why must we carry a gun?
Why must we kill a man
Or hurt anyone?
Oh, what are we doin'
With our dirty little wars?
Men with so much loving
Will love, nevermore.
Remember Frederic Cheydleur
Remember the name
And when you remember
Remember the pain
Remember what we're doing
In those far away lands
Remember what we're doing;
his blood is on your hands.
I knew him full and well
He worked for Peace and Freedom
He said that war is hell
We worked together side by side
and tho' we both were young
Many the pain we shared
and many the song we sung
He wouldn't fight a war
wouldn't carry a gun
He wouldn't kill a man
or hurt anyone
Oh what are you doing
with your dirty little war?
A man with so much loving
will never live no more.
Within a little village
So far away from home
He worked to live a life
To make Laos his own
Within his heart was anguish
Within his heart was pain
For he knew "American"
Was branded to his name.
Oh what are you doing
with your dirty little war?
A man with so much loving
will never live no more.
And so they came and killed him
For the brand he bore
They didn't understand
He had naught to do with war
They didn't understand
He offered only love
He had no other reason
No orders from above.
Oh what are you doing
with your dirty little war?
A man with so much loving
will never live no more.
And yet I sit & wonder
I sit & wonder, why?
There are many thousand men --
Why any man must die
They all had a sweetheart
Or maybe a bride
They all had lovin'
And now they all have died.
Oh what are you doing
with your dirty little war?
A man with so much loving
will never live no more.
There are many thousand women
Whose hearts are town in twain
There are many thousand babies
Who know only a name
There are many thousand mothers
And fathers and friends
There'll be many thousand tears
Before this killing ends.
Why must we fight a war
Why must we carry a gun?
Why must we kill a man
Or hurt anyone?
Oh, what are we doin'
With our dirty little wars?
Men with so much loving
Will love, nevermore.
Remember Frederic Cheydleur
Remember the name
And when you remember
Remember the pain
Remember what we're doing
In those far away lands
Remember what we're doing;
his blood is on your hands.
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Parole e musica di Marti Rogers
Pubblicato su Broadside #117 del 1972
Frederic Cheydleur era un volontario appartenente all'International Voluntary Services, un'associazione di ispirazione cristiano-pacifista (ma aperta a tutti) che mandava volontari in progetti di sviluppo nei paesi del Terzo Mondo.
Frederic era quacchero e pacifista. Fu mandato in Laos dove fu ucciso nel 1967 a soli ventinove anni, probabilmente perché scambiato per una spia dell'esercito americano.