Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Ballad of Oxford, artist - Phil Ochs. Album song A Toast To Those Who Are Gone, in the genre Фолк-рок
Date of issue: 23.04.2007
Record label: Phil Ochs
Song language: English
Ballad of Oxford |
I’ll sing you a song about a southern town where the devil had his rule |
When marshalls faced an angry mob to send one man to school |
His name was jimmy meredith |
The tide he helped to turn |
For he chose to stay on that terrible day |
The land was soon to learn |
There was blood, red blood, on their hands |
Yellow dirt on their clothes |
What they thought they were doing |
Only God and the devil knows |
There was hate, cold hate, in their hearts |
Shot from their souls like a gun |
And as they threw their stones and bricks |
They screamed, «see what you have done!» |
The governor made a promise he would keep the trouble down |
But when the mob got ugly no troopers could be found |
And men were filled with hate and fear |
They screamed into the night |
The rebel flag waved in the air |
The symbol of state’s rights |
There was blood, red blood, on their hands |
Yellow dirt on their clothes |
What they thought they were doing |
Only God and the devil knows |
There was hate, cold hate, in their hearts |
Shot from their souls like a gun |
And as they threw their stones and bricks |
They screamed, «see what you have done!» |
Gas was fired into the mob after each attack |
And though the gas was running low, they never fired back |
And when the smoke had cleared and the fury felt it’s pain |
Two men were dead and a hundred bled |
The south had risen again |
So listen mr barnet, and mr walker, too |
The times are changing mighty fast, they’ll roll right over you |
But someday you’ll head for the south, to the southern tip of hell |
And it’s hot down there, white-hot down there |
Let’s hear your rebel yell! |
There was blood, red blood, on their hands |
Yellow dirt on their clothes |
What they thought they were doing |
Only God and the devil knows |
There was hate, cold hate, in their hearts |
Shot from their souls like a gun |
And as they threw their stones and bricks |
They screamed, «see what you have done!» |
«see what you have done!» |