© 2020 - 2024 Ronnie Lutes
In this episode I talk about one of the songs that inspired me to do this podcast. Johnny Horton’s career was cut short, maybe due to powdering alligators behinds… listen and you will learn about the German Battleship Bismarck.
Sink the Bismarck by Johnny Horton
Lyrics
In May of 1941 the war had just begun
The Germans had the biggest ship that had the biggest guns
The Bismarck was the fastest ship that ever sailed the sea
On her decks were guns as big as steers and shells as big as trees
And
Out of the cold and foggy night came the British ship the Hood
And every British seaman, he knew and understood
They had to sink the Bismarck the terror of the sea
Stop those guns as big as steers and those shells as big as trees
We’ll find the German battleship that’s makin’ such a fuss
We gotta sink the Bismarck ‘cause the world depends on us
Yeah hit the decks a runnin’ boys and spin those guns around
When we find the Bismarck we gotta cut her down
And
The Hood found the Bismarck and on that fatal day
The Bismarck started firing fifteen miles away
“We gotta sink the Bismarck!” was the battle sound
But when the smoke had cleared away, the mighty Hood went down
And
For six long days and weary nights they tried to find her trail
Churchill told the people: “put every ship asail
Cause somewhere on that ocean, I know she’s gotta be
We gotta sink the Bismarck to the bottom of the sea!”
And
The fog was gone the seventh day and they saw the morning sun
Ten hours away from homeland the Bismarck made its run
The Admiral of the British fleet said turn those bows around
We found that German battleship and we’re gonna cut her down
The British guns were aimed and the shells were coming fast
The first shell hit the Bismarck they knew she couldn’t last
That mighty German battleship is just a memory
“Sink the Bismarck!” was the battle cry that shook the seven seas
And finally…
We found that German battleship was makin’ such a fuss
We had to sink the Bismark cause the world depends on us
We hit the decks a-runnin’ and we spun those guns around
We found the mighty Bismark and then we cut her down
Links
Today I talk about the eruption of Mount Vesuvius and Pompeii and phalluses. Be prepared.
Cities in Dust from Siouxsie and the Banshees.
Lyrics
Water was running, children were running You were running out of time Under the mountain, a golden fountain Were you praying at the Lares shrine?
And
Hot and burning in your nostrils Pouring down your gaping mouth Your molten bodies, blanket of cinders caught in the throes, and
Whoa oh - oh your city lies in dust, my friend Oh - oh your city lies in dust, my friend Oh - oh your city lies in dust, my friend Oh - oh your city lies in dust, my friend
And
We found you hiding, we found you lying Choking on the dirt and sand Your former glories, and all the stories Dragged and washed with eager hands
Links
This episode we are talking about Tiananmen Square protests in 1989 and the damage it caused.
Lyrics
In the month of May, in the glory of the day Came the descendants of a hundred flowers And their fight it did begin with the aging Mandarin And they fought with an extraordinary power Everyone was smiling, their hearts were one In Tiananmen Square
And…
In the month of June, in the darkness of the moon Went the descendants of a hundred flowers And time may never tell how many of them fell Like the petals of a rose in some satanic shower Everyone was weeping in all of China And Tiananmen Square
And…
And even the moon on the fourth day of June Hid her face and did not see Black sun rising over Tiananmen Square
Links
Thanks for listening
This is the end… beautiful friend… the end… my only friend… the end… at least of this season. Season 1 is over.
Today I talk about Sneetches, Right Guard, the Republic of Biafra, and Pol Pot. Enjoy…
Holiday in Cambodia by The Dead Kennedys.
Lyrics
So, you’ve been to school for a year or two And you know you’ve seen it all In daddy’s car, thinkin’ you’ll go far Back east, your type don’t crawl
Play ethnicity jazz to parade your snazz On your five-grand stereo Braggin’ that you know how the niggers feel cold And the slums got so much soul
It’s time to taste what you most fear Right Guard will not help you here Brace yourself, my dear Brace yourself, my dear
It’s a holiday in Cambodia It’s tough, kid, but it’s life It’s a holiday in Cambodia Don’t forget to pack a wife
You’re a star-belly sneetch, you suck like a leech You want everyone to act like you Kiss ass while you bitch so you can get rich But your boss gets richer off you
Well, you’ll work harder with a gun in your back For a bowl of rice a day Slave for soldiers till you starve Then your head is skewered on a stake
It’s a holiday in Cambodia Where people dress in black A holiday in Cambodia Where you’ll kiss ass or crack
Links
Thanks for listening…
Today we are talking about a legendary singer/songwriter and a legendary human being. We are talking about the person that was the inspiration for the beginning lines of this very podcast that you hear every week and that you just heard. It is from his iconic line, “Hello, I’m Johnny Cash”.
Homework
The Ballad of Ira Hayes by Johnny Cash is off his album Bitter Tears: Ballads of the American Indian.
Lyrics Discussed
Gather round me people there’s a story I would tell
About a brave young Indian you should remember well
From the land of the Pima Indian
A proud and noble band
Who farmed the Phoenix valley in Arizona land
Down the ditches for a thousand years
The water grew Ira’s peoples’ crops
Until the white man stole the water rights
And the sparkling water stopped
Now Ira’s folks were hungry
And their land grew crops of weeds
When war came, Ira volunteered
And forgot the white man’s greed
And
There they battled up Iwo Jima’s hill
Two hundred and fifty men
But only twenty-seven lived to walk back down again
And when the fight was over
And when Old Glory raised
Among the men who held it high
Was the Indian, Ira Hayes
And
Then Ira started drinking hard
Jail was often his home
They’d let him raise the flag and lower it
Like you’d throw a dog a bone!
He died drunk one morning
Alone in the land he fought to save
Two inches of water in a lonely ditch
Was a grave for Ira Hayes
Call him drunken Ira Hayes
He won’t answer anymore
Not the whiskey drinking Indian
Nor the Marine that went to war
And lastly
Yeah, call him drunken Ira Hayes
But his land is just as dry
And his ghost is lying thirsty
In the ditch where Ira died
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