Showing posts with label Malvina Reynolds. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Malvina Reynolds. Show all posts

Tuesday, November 19, 2019

The Centennial Of Pete Seeger’s Birthday (1919-2014)- *In Pete Seeger's House- "Rainbow Quest"- Pete Seeger Performing Malvina Reynold's "Little Boxes"

Click on title to link to YouTube's film clip of Pete Seeger's now famous 1960s (black and white, that's the give-away)"Rainbow Quest" for the performer in this entry's headline.

Markin comment:

This series, featuring Pete Seeger and virtually most of the key performers in the 1960s folk scene is a worthy entry into the folk archival traditions for future revivalists to seek out. There were thirty plus episodes (some contained more than one performer of note, as well as Pete solo performances). I have placed the YouTube film clips here one spot over four days, November 10-13, 2009 for the reader's convenience.


*In Pete Seeger's House- "Rainbow Quest"-

Tuesday, November 12, 2019

The Centennial Of Pete Seeger’s Birthday (1919-2014)- *In Pete Seeger's House- "Rainbow Quest"- Malvina Reynolds

Click on title to link to YouTube's film clip of Pete Seeger's now famous 1960s (black and white, that's the give-away)"Rainbow Quest" for the performer in this entry's headline.

Markin comment:

This series, featuring Pete Seeger and virtually most of the key performers in the 1960s folk scene is a worthy entry into the folk archival traditions for future revivalists to seek out. There were thirty plus episodes (some contained more than one performer of note, as well as Pete solo performances). I have placed the YouTube film clips here one spot over four days, November 10-13, 2009 for the reader's convenience.

Friday, October 25, 2019

The Centennial Of Pete Seeger’s Birthday (1919-2014)- ***Once More Into The Time Capsule, Part One-The New York Folk Revival Scene in the Early 1960’s-Malvina Reynolds

Once More Into The Time Capsule, Part One-The New York Folk Revival Scene in the Early 1960’s-Malvina Reynolds






CD Review

Washington Square Memoirs: The Great Urban Folk Revival Boom, 1950-1970, various artists, 3CD set, Rhino Records, 2001


"Except for the reference to the origins of the talent brought to the city the same comments apply for this CD. Rather than repeat information that is readily available in the booklet and on the discs I’ll finish up here with some recommendations of songs that I believe that you should be sure to listen to:

Disc One; Woody Guthrie on “Hard Travelin’”, Big Bill Broonzy on “Black , Brown And White”, Jean Ritchie on “Nottamun Town”, Josh White on “One Meat Ball” Malvina Reynolds on “Little Boxes”, Cisco Houston on “Midnight Special”, The Weavers on “Wasn’t That A Time”, Glenn Yarborough on “Spanish Is A Loving Tongue”, Odetta on “I’ve Been Driving On Bald Mountain”, The New Lost City Ramblers on “Don’t Let Your Deal Go Down”, Bob Gibson and Bob Camp on “Betty And Dupree”, Ramblin’ Jack Elliott on “San Francisco Bay Blues”, Peggy Seeger on “First Time Ever I Saw Your Face”, Hoyt Axton on “Greenback Dollar” and Carolyn Hester on “Turn And Swing Jubilee”."


Malvina Reynolds on “Little Boxes”. Like everyone else from the “Generation of ‘68” who paid attention to folk music on their way to greater social and political consciousness I know this song from Pete Seeger’s rendition. I only knew the name Malvina Reynolds much later. I only ‘knew’ the musical work of Ms. Reynold much later through the efforts of Rosalie Sorrels who did a whole CD compilation of Malvina's work (reviewed in this space). The lyrics to “Little Boxes”, by the way, are a very concise and condensed expression of the way many of us were feeling about the future bourgeois society had set up for us back in the early 1960s. As the song details-it was not pretty. I submit that it still is not pretty.

Malvina Reynolds: Song Lyrics and Poems

Little Boxes


Notes: words and music by Malvina Reynolds; copyright 1962 Schroder Music Company, renewed 1990. Malvina and her husband were on their way from where they lived in Berkeley, through San Francisco and down the peninsula to La Honda where she was to sing at a meeting of the Friends’ Committee on Legislation (not the PTA, as Pete Seeger says in the documentary about Malvina, “Love It Like a Fool”). As she drove through Daly City, she said “Bud, take the wheel. I feel a song coming on.”


Little boxes on the hillside,
Little boxes made of ticky tacky,1
Little boxes on the hillside,
Little boxes all the same.
There's a green one and a pink one
And a blue one and a yellow one,
And they're all made out of ticky tacky
And they all look just the same.

And the people in the houses
All went to the university,
Where they were put in boxes
And they came out all the same,
And there's doctors and lawyers,
And business executives,
And they're all made out of ticky tacky
And they all look just the same.

And they all play on the golf course
And drink their martinis dry,
And they all have pretty children
And the children go to school,
And the children go to summer camp
And then to the university,
Where they are put in boxes
And they come out all the same.

And the boys go into business
And marry and raise a family
In boxes made of ticky tacky
And they all look just the same.
There's a green one and a pink one
And a blue one and a yellow one,
And they're all made out of ticky tacky
And they all look just the same.

Thursday, July 11, 2019

The Centennial Of Pete Seeger’s Birthday (1919-2014)- *The "Big Tent" Folk Revival Of The 1960s- A CD Review

Click on the headline to link to a "YouTube" film clip of Malvina Reynolds's performing her classic Little Boxes.

CD Review

The Folk Hits: The Golden Age Of American Popular Music, Ace Records, 2008



I have reviewed in this space more folk revival of the 1960s music that one could shake a stick at. I have gone through the litany of folk artists from that period, male and female, one song Johnnies and Janies to enduring fixtures like Bob Dylan and Joan Baez. I have reached down deep into the bag of tunes from earlier times (especially Harry Smith's anthological work) that formed their early play lists. I have also reached down into the Appalachian, Cajun, and Western traditions. In short, I have covered plenty of ground in the folk milieu of that period.

That said, I still adhere to a certain conception of the folk revival, at least as to my personal preferences. Those preferences weigh heavy on the side of protest songs, political songs, wanna-be political songs and songs of hard times and struggles. Oh sure, I had room for ballads and love songs, bitter and sweet, but the core of what got me interested in the first play, and drew me away for a time from 1950s-driven rock and roll was that politicized element. I was not alone.

The above is a kind of roundabout way of saying that while I heard much folk music, live in concerts and coffeehouses, on television (black and white in those days, for the most part), on the street corners and elsewhere I did not have a “big tent” conception of the folk revival. The folk compilation under review, needless to say, has just that conception behind it. Although I am no stranger to any of the songs in the compilation most of them struck me then, and still do today, as folk musak.

In that sense these songs, for the most part represented an attempt, a legitimate attempt, to reach a broader audience than those who hung around North Beach, Harvard Square and Washington Square. And the attempt might have succeeded except for the swamping of all this kind of music by the British invasion (mainly the Beatles and the Stones, but others as well) by 1964, or so. Then folk was left about where it stands today, for the aficionados. There are a few stick-outs here include a stirring (as always) rendition of We Shall Overcome (political) by Joan Baez, Johnny Cash’s cover of Bob Dylan’s It Ain’t Me Babe (non-political) and Pete Seeger’s cover of Malvina Reynolds’ Little Boxes (somewhat political).

************


Little Boxes

Notes: words and music by Malvina Reynolds; copyright 1962 Schroder Music Company, renewed 1990. Malvina and her husband were on their way from where they lived in Berkeley, through San Francisco and down the peninsula to La Honda where she was to sing at a meeting of the Friends’ Committee on Legislation (not the PTA, as Pete Seeger says in the documentary about Malvina, “Love It Like a Fool”). As she drove through Daly City, she said “Bud, take the wheel. I feel a song coming on.”


Little boxes on the hillside,
Little boxes made of ticky tacky,1
Little boxes on the hillside,
Little boxes all the same.
There's a green one and a pink one
And a blue one and a yellow one,
And they're all made out of ticky tacky
And they all look just the same.

And the people in the houses
All went to the university,
Where they were put in boxes
And they came out all the same,
And there's doctors and lawyers,
And business executives,
And they're all made out of ticky tacky
And they all look just the same.

And they all play on the golf course
And drink their martinis dry,
And they all have pretty children
And the children go to school,
And the children go to summer camp
And then to the university,
Where they are put in boxes
And they come out all the same.

And the boys go into business
And marry and raise a family
In boxes made of ticky tacky
And they all look just the same.
There's a green one and a pink one
And a blue one and a yellow one,
And they're all made out of ticky tacky
And they all look just the same.


Malvina Reynolds songbook(s) in which the music to this song appears:
---- Little Boxes and Other Handmade Songs
---- The Malvina Reynolds Songbook
---- There's Music in the Air: Songs for the Middle-Young

Thursday, June 27, 2019

The Centennial Of Pete Seeger’s Birthday (1919-2014)- *Songs To While Away The Class Struggle By- Malvina Reynolds "Little Boxes"

Click on the title to link a "YouTube" film clip from the "Rainbow Quest" series of Pete Seeger performing Malvina Reynold's classic sent-up of suburban life in the 1950s (and now, although it would be "Mac-boxes"), "Little Boxes".

In this series, presented under the headline “Songs To While Away The Class Struggle By”, I will post some songs that I think will help us get through the “dog days” of the struggle for our communist future. I do not vouch for the political thrust of the songs; for the most part they are done by pacifists, social democrats, hell, even just plain old ordinary democrats. And, occasionally, a communist, although hard communist musicians have historically been scarce on the ground. Thus, here we have a regular "popular front" on the music scene. While this would not be acceptable for our political prospects, it will suffice for our purposes here.

Little Boxes

Notes: words and music by Malvina Reynolds; copyright 1962 Schroder Music Company, renewed 1990. Malvina and her husband were on their way from where they lived in Berkeley, through San Francisco and down the peninsula to La Honda where she was to sing at a meeting of the Friends’ Committee on Legislation (not the PTA, as Pete Seeger says in the documentary about Malvina, “Love It Like a Fool”). As she drove through Daly City, she said “Bud, take the wheel. I feel a song coming on.”


Little boxes on the hillside,
Little boxes made of ticky tacky,1
Little boxes on the hillside,
Little boxes all the same.
There's a green one and a pink one
And a blue one and a yellow one,
And they're all made out of ticky tacky
And they all look just the same.

And the people in the houses
All went to the university,
Where they were put in boxes
And they came out all the same,
And there's doctors and lawyers,
And business executives,
And they're all made out of ticky tacky
And they all look just the same.

And they all play on the golf course
And drink their martinis dry,
And they all have pretty children
And the children go to school,
And the children go to summer camp
And then to the university,
Where they are put in boxes
And they come out all the same.

And the boys go into business
And marry and raise a family
In boxes made of ticky tacky
And they all look just the same.
There's a green one and a pink one
And a blue one and a yellow one,
And they're all made out of ticky tacky
And they all look just the same.


Malvina Reynolds songbook(s) in which the music to this song appears:
---- Little Boxes and Other Handmade Songs
---- The Malvina Reynolds Songbook
---- There's Music in the Air: Songs for the Middle-Young

Tuesday, January 15, 2013

From The Pen Of Frank Jackman- Malvina Reynolds’ “On The Rim Of The World”


On the Rim of the World
Notes: words and music by Malvina Reynolds; copyright 1973 Schroder Music Company, renewed 2001.


She inches along on the rim of the world,
Always about to go over,
How she can manage I never will know,
To get from one day to the other.
Scrounging a buck or a bed
Or the share of a roof for her head,
This nobody's child, this precarious girl,
Who lives on the rim of the world.

She looks like a princess in somebody's rags,
She dreams of a world without danger,
Climbing the stairs to a room of her own
With someone who isn't a stranger.
But now she eats what she can,
And accepts what there is for a man,
This nobody's child, this precarious girl,
Who lives on the rim of the world.

She inches along on the rim of the world,
Always about to go over,
How she can manage I never will know,
To get from one day to the other.
Scrounging a buck or a bed
Or the share of a roof for her head,
This nobody's child, this precarious girl,
Who lives on the rim of the world.


Malvina Reynolds songbook(s) in which the music to this song appears:---- The Malvina Reynolds Songbook

Malvina Reynolds recording(s) on which this song is performed:
---- Held Over---- Ear to the Ground

Recordings by other artists on which this song is performed:
---- Rosalie Sorrels: Be Careful There's a Baby in the House (Green Linnet Records GLCD 2100, 1991)
---- Rosalie Sorrels: No Closing Chord; The Songs of Malvina Reynolds (Red House Records RHR CD 143, 2000)
---- Jane Voss and Hoyle Osborne: Pullin' Through (Green Linnet SIF 1044, 1983)



* * * * *

http://people.wku.edu/charles.smith/MALVINA/mr126.htm
This page copyright 2006 by Charles H. Smith and Nancy Schimmel. All rights reserved.


… she, Clara this week, maybe Clarissa or Claire next week, or after the next bust, thought for a moment, for just a moment, no more, she had no time for much more, what with her name, her birth name, Clementine, Clementine Barrows, placeof birth Northbridge, Kentucky down in the hills and hollows of Appalachia, some nineteen years ago, coming up next on the court docket. What was it for this time, solicitation, no, lewd and lascivious behavior, whatever that was. She just tried to please the guy, when she, like always with the guys, approached him looking for a drink, or drinks, and asked him what he was looking for, and if it was her, give him what he asked for, or maybe what he needed, what he wanted in the back of the Red Top Grille. How did she know he would have buyer’s remorse, or whatever he told the cops, to get out from under his own rap and walk, respectable john walk, when somebody complained and yelled copper after they had finished. She thought though, that minute thought, that she was due for a break, a break from having to pay attention to any man who would give her a look, from any guy who thought he could go around the world on the basis of a few cheap scotches (not even good stuff, Haig &Haig maybe, stuff that a lady should expect of agentleman and that she had developed a taste for), some fast talk and some fast hands.

She could hardly believe that it was only a couple of years before that she had headed west, headed for Los Angeles. Headed out to be a Hollywood star (everybody back home had said that she had the looks to make it, back in Northbridge and around the hills and hollows after she won that Miss Eastern Kentucky beauty contest, the Jessica Lange looks , Jessica Lange who just then was making a big splash with a monkey, uh, oh a gorilla, who was all goggle eyes over her in the re-make of King Kong ) or at least a starlet, on that Trailways she picked up in Prestonsburg after that incident with her father, his drunken midnight creep up the stairs one night which she could not understand , and then that big blow-up with Lem, Lemuel Bass, when he asked her to marry him. Christ she was only seventeen, only finishing high school, only starting out with her dreams. She would probably have had two kids and one in the oven by now if she had stayed.

Yah, she had no regrets about leaving that scene as hard as things had been once she got out here and found that fistfuls, bushels full, hell, acres full of other young girls from Steubenville, from Decatur, from Moline, from Fargo (all the Dakota cities it seemed like) were looking to be stars, or at least starlets. Once she learned the ropes, knew the score, she got that job as a drive-in waitress, a car hop, until that night manager (really just a trainee night manager) thought that putting her on the side of the drive-in where all the valley guys sat their cars down on Friday and Saturday night to feast of burgers and fries delivered by a short shirt and halter tip-worthy young waitress meant that he could roam his hands all over her, Then, after he fired her, that foolish job (as she country girl, country high Baptist girl brought-up before her mother died, still blushed an innocent blush thinking about it) so-called, modeling, well not really modeling but showing herself naked, in the buff, for guys to look over at private parties. She just couldn’t do it after that first time, couldn’t have a bunch of strangers, strange men, eyeing her and thinking whorish thoughts. Then nothing, no jobs, no money, finally no room, and tough times even keeping herself fed, nothing for a month or so. The streets.

Desperate, forget blushes (except private look back country girl properly Christian brought up blushes), forget man stares, forget everything except trying to get off the streets after she had nearly been molested, raped, one night when she slept out on the edges of Venice Beach and a couple of guys had held her down before some guy called them off and they ran. Then a few days later she met Trudy on the Santa Monica beach as she was trying to get a little sun to make her look less like some midnight troll, Trixie from Norman, Oklahoma who had taken her own Trailways ride west a couple of years before her and knew the score, and knew that she couldn’t go back to Norman. Trudy was, well she called herself a bar maid but what she was a prostitute working the better bars in Santa Monica, the ones near the pier.

And so she, Clementine Barrows born, now Clara, learned the ropes, learned how to take a man’s money without public blushes. Learned how make a man pay for his around the world pleasures. It had been tough, like now with this soft bust soon to be taken care of by Artie and then back to work, and some of these guys were a little wacky, wacky in their sexual dreams, their quirky wants that she could write a book about, but she had gotten herself a room before long, a room of her own, a nice room she was fixing up, got off those damn streets, and got used to what men had to give, which wasn’t much.

…yah, as her name was called to go before the judge she thought she needed a break, needed it bad.

Friday, January 11, 2013

From The Pen Of Frank Jackman-Malvina Reynolds’ “On The Rim Of The World”




… she, Clara this week, maybe Clarissa or Claire next week, or after the next bust, thought for a moment, for just a moment, no more, she had no time for much more, what with her name, her birth name, Clementine, Clementine Barrows, place of birth Northbridge, Kentucky down in the hills and hollows of Appalachia, some nineteen years ago, coming up next on the court docket, what was it for this time, solicitation, no, lewd and lascivious behavior, whatever that was, that she was due for a break, a break from having to pay attention to any man who would give her a look, from any guy who thought he could go around the world on the basis of a few cheap scotches (not even good stuff, Haig &Haig maybe, stuff that a lady should expect of gentleman and that she had developed a taste for), some fast talk and some fast hands.

She could hardly believe that it was only a couple of years before that she had headed west, headed for Los Angeles, headed out to be a Hollywood star (everybody back home had said that she had the looks, the Jessica Lange looks , to make it) or at least a starlet, on that Trailways she picked up in Prestonsburg after that incident with her father, his midnight creep up the stairs, and then that big blow-up with Lem when he asked her to marry him. Christ she was only seventeen, only finishing high school, only starting out with her dreams. She would probably have had two kids and one in the oven by now if she had stayed.

Yah, she had no regrets about leaving that scene as hard as things had been once she got out here and found that fistfuls, bushels full, hell, acres full of other young girls from Steubenville, from Astabula, from Moline, from Fargo (all the Dakota cities it seemed like) were looking to be stars, or at least starlets. Once she learned the ropes, knew the score, she got that job as a drive-in waitress, until that night manager (really just a trainee night manager) thought that putting her on the side of the drive-in where all the valley guys sat their cars down on Friday and Saturday night to feast of burgers and fries delivered by a tip-worthy young waitress meant that he could roam his hands all over her, Then that foolish job (as she country girl, country high Baptist girl brought-up before her mother died, blushed an innocent blush) so-called, modeling, well not really modeling but showing herself naked, in the buff, for guys to look over at private parties. She just couldn’t do it, couldn’t have a fistful of strangers, strange men, oogling her and thinking whorish thoughts. Then nothing, no jobs, no money, finally no room, and tough times even keeping herself fed, nothing for a month or so.

Desperate, forget blushes (except private look back country girl properly Christian brought up blushes), forget man stares, forget everything except trying to keep off the streets after she had nearly been molested one night when she slept out on the edges of Venice Beach and a couple of guys had held her down before some guy called them off and they ran. Then a while later she met Trixie on the beach as she was trying to get a little sun to make her look less like some midnight troll, Trixie from Norman, Oklahoma who had taken her own Trailways ride west a couple of years before her and knew the score, and knew that she couldn’t go back to Norman. Trixie was, well she called herself a bar maid but what she was a prostitute working the better bars in Santa Monica, the ones near the pier.

And so she, Clementine Barrows born, now Clara, learned the ropes, learned how to take a man’s money without public blushes. Learned how make a man pay for his around the world pleasures. It had been tough, like now with this soft bust soon to be taken care of by Artie, and some of these guys were a little wacky, wacky in their sexual dreams, but she had gotten herself a room before long, a room of her own, got off those damn streets, and got used to what men had to give, which wasn’t much.

…yah, as her name was called to go before the judge she thought she needed a break, needed it bad.

On the Rim of the World

Notes: words and music by Malvina Reynolds; copyright 1973 Schroder Music Company, renewed 2001.


She inches along on the rim of the world,
Always about to go over,
How she can manage I never will know,
To get from one day to the other.
Scrounging a buck or a bed
Or the share of a roof for her head,
This nobody's child, this precarious girl,
Who lives on the rim of the world.

She looks like a princess in somebody's rags,
She dreams of a world without danger,
Climbing the stairs to a room of her own
With someone who isn't a stranger.
But now she eats what she can,
And accepts what there is for a man,
This nobody's child, this precarious girl,
Who lives on the rim of the world.

She inches along on the rim of the world,
Always about to go over,
How she can manage I never will know,
To get from one day to the other.
Scrounging a buck or a bed
Or the share of a roof for her head,
This nobody's child, this precarious girl,
Who lives on the rim of the world.

Malvina Reynolds songbook(s) in which the music to this song appears:---- The Malvina Reynolds Songbook

Malvina Reynolds recording(s) on which this song is performed:
---- Held Over---- Ear to the Ground

Recordings by other artists on which this song is performed:
---- Rosalie Sorrels: Be Careful There's a Baby in the House (Green Linnet Records GLCD 2100, 1991)
---- Rosalie Sorrels: No Closing Chord; The Songs of Malvina Reynolds(Red House Records RHR CD 143, 2000)
---- Jane Voss and Hoyle Osborne: Pullin' Through (Green Linnet SIF 1044, 1983)


* * * * *

http://people.wku.edu/charles.smith/MALVINA/mr126.htm
This page copyright 2006 by Charles H. Smith and Nancy Schimmel. All rights reserved.

Monday, March 09, 2009

*Yes- "What Have They Done To The Rain?"- The Music Of Rosalie Sorrels In Honor Of Malvina Reynolds

Click on title to link to YouTube's film clip of Malvina Reynolds performing "No Hole In My Head"

CD REVIEW

March Is Women’s History Month

No Closing Chord: The Songs Of Malvina Reynolds, Rosalie Sorrels, Red House Records, 2000


My first association of the name Rosalie Sorrels with folk music came, many years ago now, from hearing the recently departed folk singer/storyteller/ songwriter and unrepentant Wobblie (IWW) Utah Phillips mention his long time friendship with her going back before he became known as a folksinger. I also recall that combination of Sorrels and Phillips as he performed his classic “Starlight On The Rails” and she his also classic “If I Could Be The Rain” on a PBS documentary honoring Café Lena’ s in Saratoga, New York, a place that I am also very familiar with for many personal and musical reasons. Of note here: it should be remembered that Rosalie saved, literally, many of the compositions that Utah left helter-skelter around the country in his “bumming” days.

In the same spirit, if not for the same reasons, Rosalie here “rescues” the old time protest song writer and insightful social commentator Malvina Reynolds. Of course having been immersed in the folk revival of the 1960’s I was perfectly aware of Ms. Reynolds’s work although, if pressed, I could not name a song that I associated with her name. That, alas, is the fate of many songwriters who have written indelible songs that far outlast their names and fames. In this regard, for example, I did not realize until I listened here that the classic protest song against nuclear proliferation and in favor of nuclear disarmament from the 1960’s (and later) “What Have They Done To The Rain?" is Malvina’s composition. But enough of that: you want to know what is good here, right?

Well, obviously the above-mentioned song is fit for inclusion. “The Judge Said” a righteously (and justly) indignant outcry against trivializing sexual abuse by the courts is another. “Rosie Jane” about the trials and tribulations of the pro-abortion movement early on (just before the now tenuous victory in Roe v. Wade in 1973) and what that issue looked and felt like down “on the street”. Needless to say any song like “The Money Crop” that pays homage to one of my heroes of the 17th English Revolution the Digger (also known as True Levelers) theorist and leader Gerrrard Winstanley is going to get my attention (as I am sure it would as well for the late Professor Christopher Hill who did much to “rediscover” the work and actions of this important revolutionary).

Moving on, the heartfelt rendition of “This World”, with Bonnie Raitt on slide guitar, is a little bouquet by Rosalie to Malvina. Nice work Rosalie, and nice work Bonnie. Needless to say whether Rosalie is covering Malvina, as in this compilation, or paying tribute to her influence by pushing her own work forward she does a masterful and creative job (like bringing in children as chorus on a couple of the songs at the beginning and end of the CD) that has been the hallmark of her work since the early days.

Lyrics by Malvina Reynolds

What Have They Done to the Rain?

Notes: words and music by Malvina Reynolds; copyright 1962 as "Rain Song" then in 1964 as "What Have They Done to the Rain" by Schroder Music Company, renewed 1990. a.k.a. "Rain Song" and "Just a Little Rain." People now think of this as a song about acid rain, but it was originally written as part of a campaign to stop aboveground nuclear testing, which was putting strontium-90 in the air, where it was washed down by the rain, got into the soil and thence to the grass, which was eaten by cows. When children drank the cows’ milk the strontium-90, chemically similar to calcium but radioactive, was deposited in their bones. Mothers saved their children’s baby teeth and sent them in to be tested by scientists who indeed found elevated levels of strontium-90 in their teeth. A year after this song was written, President Kennedy signed the treaty against aboveground testing.

Just a little rain falling all around,
The grass lifts its head to the heavenly sound,
Just a little rain, just a little rain,
What have they done to the rain?
Just a little boy standing in the rain,
The gentle rain that falls for years.
And the grass is gone,
The boy disappears,
And rain keeps falling like helpless tears,

And what have they done to the rain?
Just a little breeze out of the sky,
The leaves pat their hands as the breeze blows by,
Just a little breeze with some smoke in its eye,
What have they done to the rain?
Just a little boy standing in the rain,
The gentle rain that falls for years.
And the grass is gone,
The boy disappears,
And rain keeps falling like helpless tears,
And what have they done to the rain?

“Rosie Jane”

This song is addressed to my sisters.
Any man who is present may listen,
Any priest, any public official, any physician.
But it gives him no license to touch us,
We make the decision.
Me and Lydia, Josie and Rosie and Eve,
We handle this matter ourselves,
You'd better believe, or you better leave.

Chorus:
Rosie Jane, are you pregnant again?
Rosie Jane, you can hardly take care
Of the four you had before.
What in heaven's name were you thinking of!
Rosie Jane, was it love?

I had an extra shot on top of what I'd got,
In a word I was drunk, so was Bill.
At least I think it was Bill,
And I'd forgot to take my pill.
I guess it was God's will.

(Chorus)

When that baby is a child,
It will suffer from neglect,
Be picked upon and pecked,
And run over and wrecked,
And its head will be crowned with the thorn.
But while it's inside her
It must remain intact,
And it cannot be murdered till it's born.

(Chorus)



The Money Crop

Notes: words and music by Malvina Reynolds; copyright 1966 Schroder Music Company, renewed 1994.

Well, money has its own way,
And money has to grow.
It grows on human blood and bone,
As any child would know.
It's iron stuff and paper stuff
With no life of its own,
And so it takes its growing sap
From human blood and bone.
And many a child goes hungering
Because the wage is low,
And men die on the battlefield
To make the money grow.

And those that take the money crop
Are avid without end,
They plant it in the tenements
To make it grow again.
The little that they leave for us,
It cannot be a seed.
We spend it for the shoddy clothes
And every daily need.
We spend it in a minute,
In an hour it is gone,
To find its way to grow again
On human blood and bone,
Blood and bone.

This World

Notes: words and music by Malvina Reynolds; copyright 1961 Schroder Music Company, renewed 1989. a.k.a. "Love It Like a Fool."

Baby, I ain't afraid to die,
It's just that I hate to say good-bye to this world,
This world, this world.
This old world is mean and cruel,
But still I love it like a fool, this world,
This world, this world.

I'd rather go to the corner store
Than sing hosannah on that golden shore,
I'd rather live on Parker Street
Than fly around where the angels meet.
Oh, this old world is all I know,

It's dust to dust when I have to go from this world,
This world, this world.
Somebody else will take my place,
Some other hands, some other face,
Some other eyes will look around
And find the things I've never found.
Don't weep for me when I am gone,
Just keep this old world rolling on, this world,
This world, this world.