Biography:
Philip David Ochs (pronounced o?ks/) (December 19, 1940 – April 9, 1976) was an American protest singer (or, as he preferred, a topical singer) and songwriter who was known for his sharp wit, sardonic humor, earnest humanism, political activism, insightful and alliterative lyrics, and haunting voice. He wrote hundreds of songs in the 1960s and released eight albums in his lifetime.
Ochs performed at many political events, including anti-Vietnam War and civil rights rallies
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Other songs:
- A Toast To Those Who Are Gone
- A Year To Go By
- Another Age
- Another Country
- Automation Song
- Ballad Of Oxford
- Ballad Of William Worthy
- Bound For Glory
- Bracero
- Celia
- Changes
- Chords Of Fame
- Cops Of The World
- Cross My Heart
- Crucifixion
- Davey Moore
- Days Of Decision
- Doesnt Lenny Live Here Anymore
- Draft Dodger Rag
- Flower Lady
- Going Down To Mississippi
- Half A Century High
- Hands
- Heres To The State Of Mississippi
- Heres To The State Of Richard Nixon
- I Aint Marching Anymore
- I Shoulda Known Better
- Im Going To Say It Now
- Im Gonna Say It Now
- Im Tired
- In The Heat Of The Summer
- Is There Anybody Here
- Joe Hill
- Knock On The Door
- Links On The Chain
- Love Me Im A Liberal
- Maintaining Law And Order
- No More Songs
- One Way Ticket Home
- Outside Of A Small Circle Of Friends
- Passing Of My Life
- Pleasures Of The Harbor
- Power And The Glory
- Pretty Smart On My Part
- Rehersal For Retirement
- Remember Me
- Ringing Of Revolution
- Scorpion Departs But Never Returns
- Small Circle
- Song Of A Soldier
- Spaceman
- Spanish Civil War Song
- Street Soldier
- Ten Cents A Coup
- Thats The Way Its Gonna Be
- Thats What I Want To Hear
- The Bells
- The Cannons Of Christianity
- The Confession
- The Doll House
- The Highwayman
- The Passing Of My Life
- The Thresher
- The Trial
- The War Is Over
- There But For Fortune
- This Old World Is Changing Hands
- Too Many Martyrs
- Watch The Waterfall
- What Are You Fighting For
- Whats That I Hear
- When Im Gone
- When In Rome
- Where Were You In Chicago
- White Boots Marching In A Yellow Land
- William Butler Yeats Visits Lincoln Park And Escapes Unscathed
Four years of hard work!This month of May we celebrated four years on the air. We continue working on the dissemination of this wonderful instrument, thank you for participating in our story!
C Am F C
The pilots playing poker in the cockpit of the plane,
Am F Dm
the casualties arriving like the dropping of the rain.
C Am F G
And a mountain of machinery will fall before a man,
C F G C
when you're white boots marching in a yellow land
C Am F C
It's written in the ashes of the village towns we burn,
Am F Dm
it's written in the empty beds of fathers unreturned.
C Am F G
And the chocolate in the children’s eyes will never understand,
C F G C
when you're white boots marching in a yellow land.
Am
Red blow the bugles of the dawn,
G
the morning has arrived, you must be gone.
F G
And the lost patrol chase their chartered souls,
C Bb - C
like old whores following tired armies.
C Am F C
Train them well, the men who will be fighting by your side,
Am F Dm
and never turn your back, if the battle turns the tide,
C Am F G
for the colours of a civil war are louder than commands,
C F G C
when you're white boots marching in a yellow land.
C Am F C
Blow them from the forest and burn them from your sight,
Am F Dm
tie their hands behind their backs, and question through the night.
C Am F G
But when the firing squad is ready, they'll be spitting where they stand,
C F G C
at the white boots marching in a yellow land.
Am
Red blow the bugles of the dawn,
G
the morning has arrived, you must be gone.
F G
And the lost patrol chase their chartered souls,
C Bb - C
like old whores following tired armies.
C Am F C
The comic and the beauty queen are dancing on the stage,
Am F Dm
raw recruits are lining up like coffins in a cage.
C Am F G
Oh, we're fighting in a war we lost before the war began,
C F G C
we're the white boots marching in a yellow land.
Am
Red blow the bugles of the dawn,
G
the morning has arrived you must be gone.
F G
And the lost patrol chase their chartered souls,
C Bb - C
like old whores following tired armies.
The pilots playing poker in the cockpit of the plane,
Am F Dm
the casualties arriving like the dropping of the rain.
C Am F G
And a mountain of machinery will fall before a man,
C F G C
when you're white boots marching in a yellow land
C Am F C
It's written in the ashes of the village towns we burn,
Am F Dm
it's written in the empty beds of fathers unreturned.
C Am F G
And the chocolate in the children’s eyes will never understand,
C F G C
when you're white boots marching in a yellow land.
Am
Red blow the bugles of the dawn,
G
the morning has arrived, you must be gone.
F G
And the lost patrol chase their chartered souls,
C Bb - C
like old whores following tired armies.
C Am F C
Train them well, the men who will be fighting by your side,
Am F Dm
and never turn your back, if the battle turns the tide,
C Am F G
for the colours of a civil war are louder than commands,
C F G C
when you're white boots marching in a yellow land.
C Am F C
Blow them from the forest and burn them from your sight,
Am F Dm
tie their hands behind their backs, and question through the night.
C Am F G
But when the firing squad is ready, they'll be spitting where they stand,
C F G C
at the white boots marching in a yellow land.
Am
Red blow the bugles of the dawn,
G
the morning has arrived, you must be gone.
F G
And the lost patrol chase their chartered souls,
C Bb - C
like old whores following tired armies.
C Am F C
The comic and the beauty queen are dancing on the stage,
Am F Dm
raw recruits are lining up like coffins in a cage.
C Am F G
Oh, we're fighting in a war we lost before the war began,
C F G C
we're the white boots marching in a yellow land.
Am
Red blow the bugles of the dawn,
G
the morning has arrived you must be gone.
F G
And the lost patrol chase their chartered souls,
C Bb - C
like old whores following tired armies.
Phil Stacey
Phil Taylor
Phil Thompson
Phil Vassar
Philadelphia Gra (...)