Happy Century, Woody Guthrie.
Happy 223rd Anniversary, France.
This land is your land This land is my land
From California to the New York island;
From the red wood forest to the Gulf Stream waters
This land was made for you and Me.
A Bastille Day to make flag-wavers and phone-in idealists proud.
A time to sing La Marseillaise with the fervor of V.I.P. donors and Monday morning quarterbacks.
Go ahead, have the Riccard, the Champagne, the Bordeaux.
Soon enough, we’ll be back to the Budweisers of our discontent.
For now, though, even Fox News will mention
the Dust Bowl Troubadour and that son of a Kenyan,
in the same sentence with the socialism they’re supposed to embody.
After all, if there’s a revolution apace, it’s for the right to party.
This land may be yours, but the ground is for fracking.
The Gulf Stream is still there, but loaded with oil rigs.
Corporations are now people, my friend,
and may text you to ask for your Voter ID.
But let’s give Woody the final word of the day.
For while only a few are bound for glory,
we’re all better off that once someone did give a damn.
Nobody living can ever stop me,
As I go walking that freedom highway.
Nobody living can ever make me turn back
This land was made for you and me.