Gil's Libertarian Mix Tape

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When I was
in high school, it was all the rage to make a mix
tape
for a friend, especially a girlfriend or boyfriend. Today’s
high-schooler knows them as playlists.
Some of the unwritten rules of making a mix tape are:

  • songs must
    be good
  • tapes are
    limited to about 90 min running time
  • try to pick
    songs that are unlikely to have been heard by the listener
  • tell a story
    or pick a theme
  • track sequencing
    is important — must have good flow
  • the selections
    should reflect your personality

Doing
my best to adhere to these rules, I present my own libertarian mix
tape below. The point is to demonstrate and explain libertarian
ideas, so I will comment on or explain each song. All lyrics are
appended at the end of this article.

Economics

One could rightly
say that all of politics begins with production and distribution
– that is, economics.

  1. The Boy
    Who Wouldn’t Hoe Corn
    (itunes/amazon,
    bluegrass, lyrics)
    is a short tale of lazy man who gets his just deserts.
  2. Conversation
    with a Mule
    (amazon,
    country, lyrics) is a
    fun spoken song about who, between a mule and a man, does the
    work, and where the fruits of that labor go.
  3. Pirate
    Radio
    (amazon,
    shanty, lyrics) rails against regulation
    by the FCC. Money quote: What we need is liberty, not no stinkin'
    laws / Freedom from the FCC and its money-grubbing paws!
  4. Wabash
    Cannonball
    (amazon,
    country, lyrics) is an unabashed
    tribute to the majesty and triumph of modern engineering and business
    in its creation of the train and rail system.
  5. Ammonia
    Avenue
    (itunes/amazon,
    pop, lyrics) Ammonia avenue is
    a metaphor for modern intellectual and industrial achievement.
    We are told to be humble in our approach to criticism of that
    which we do not understand. And who are we to justify the right
    in all we do? / Until we seek, until we find ammonia avenue

Fight the
Man

Libertarians
are not anti-war in the strict sense. Indeed, wars of political
independence are just causes, as some of these songs relate.

  1. Bright
    Sunny South
    (itunes/amazon,
    bluegrass, lyrics) tells the
    story of a boy leaving home to fight for the Southern cause in
    the War
    to Prevent Southern Independence
    . It’s historically representative
    of why
    men fought
    on the Southern side. I especially like the advice
    his father gives him: Son, be brave but show mercy whenever
    you can.
  2. Bonnie
    Blue Flag
    (amazon,
    traditional, lyrics) is a marching
    song from the War to Prevent Southern Independence. Its popularity
    rivaled that of Dixie, and its performance was banned during Reconstruction.
    See wikipedia for
    more
    . As with many songs older than ~50 years, there is a
    lyrics controversy.
  3. Jesse
    James
    (amazon,
    country, lyrics) was a folk hero of
    sorts, as this song attests. To understand why, you might read
    wikipedia’s entry,
    as well as articles by Ryan
    McMaken
    and Scott
    Trask
    .
  4. The Foggy
    Dew
    (itunes/amazon,
    traditional, lyrics) chronicles
    the Easter
    Uprising
    of 1916 in Ireland, where Irish separatism was combined
    with anti-conscription sentiment in a failed attempt at independence.
    This traditional song, with libertarian consistency, calls conscription
    and political subjugation what they are: slavery. The lyrics were
    written by Peadar Kearney, and are exceptionally poetic.

Omnipotent
Government

  1. Red Right
    Hand
    (itunes/amazon,
    alternative, lyrics) could be an
    allegory for the lure and diabolical nature of the modern all-embracing
    state. As the lyrics state, some would say of the modern state,
    he’s a god, he’s a man, he’s a ghost, he’s a guru. The
    red right hand is the bloody, coercive nature of government. You're
    one microscopic cog in his catastrophic plan, designed and directed
    by his red right hand.
  2. Everybody
    Loves Me, Baby
    (itunes/amazon,
    pop, lyrics) is a fun
    number sung from the viewpoint of a totalitarian leader who just
    can’t understand dissent. And, it explicitly mentions anarchists
    — how cool!
  3. The Grave
    (itunes/amazon,
    pop, lyrics) is the story of a young
    man who volunteers for the Vietnam war.
  4. Reĝoj
    de Cindro
    (musicexpress/vinilkosmo,
    pop, lyrics) is one of two Esperanto
    songs on this mix tape. I have translated the lyrics into English
    below. This song addresses a warrior, asking him to put away
    [his] thirsty sword and not serve those kings of ashes.
  5. La Bonaj
    Vortoj
    (musicexpress/vinilkosmo,
    hard rock, lyrics) is an angry
    song about the death, broken promises, deceit, and end of freedom
    that come with war and occupation.

The Promise
of Freedom

  1. Right
    Here, Right Now
    (amazon,
    pop, lyrics) is a song that
    came out a couple of years after, and in response to, the spontaneous
    destruction of the Berlin
    Wall
    that started in Nov 1989. It is stunning that the
    world could change at the blink of an eye through the power
    of ideas, and he proclaims there is no other place [in history]
    I want to be. Right Here, Right Now. What an optimistic
    message for all times! Beautiful.
  2. America
    (itunes/amazon)
    (folk, lyrics) is about the promise and
    reality of freedom that America was and still is for immigrants
    that only want to be free. In conversations over the years
    with immigrants to the US from Uzbekistan, Russia, China, even
    the UK, and other countries, the same theme has come up time and
    again: they can just "smell the freedom" here.
  3. Philadelphia
    Freedom
    (itunes/amazon,
    pop, lyrics) brings to my
    mind Benjamin Franklin. I will never forget the passage in his
    Autobiography where he describes coming to Philadelphia for the
    first time, and experiencing the wonder of a huge city and the
    promise of finding his fortune.
  4. Kilted
    Yaksmen Anthem
    (amazon,
    parody, lyrics) is set to
    the tune of My Country u2018Tis of Thee. I rather like My
    Country u2018Tis of Thee as far as patriotic songs go, but I also
    love the fact that parodying a patriotic song is both legal and
    socially acceptable. It's an expression of freedom, and subtly
    undermines state legitimacy. But mainly, it's a silly song. I
    love silly songs.

Lyrics

The
Boy Who Wouldn’t Hoe Corn

Tell You
a little story and it won’t take long,
‘Bout a lazy farmer who wouldn’t hoe his corn.
The reason why I never could tell,
For that young man was always well.

He planted his corn in the month of June,
And by July it was up to his eye.
Come September, there came a big frost,
And all the young man’s corn was lost.

His courtship had just begun.
Said: “Young man, have you hoed some corn?”
“Well I tried and I tried, and I tried in vain,
“But I don’t believe I raised one grain.”

He went down town to his neighbor’s door,
Where he had often been before.
Sayin’: “Pretty little miss, will you marry me?”
“Little miss what do you say?”

“Why do you come for me to wed?
“You can’t even make your own corn grain.
“Single I am, and will remain.
“A lazy man I won’t maintain.”

He turned his back and walked away.
Sayin’: “Little miss, you’ll rue the day.
“You’ll rue the day that you were born
“For givin’ me the devil ‘cos I wouldn’t hoe corn.”

Conversation
with a Mule

Old Mule,
you’re the son of a donkey, and I’m in the image of God,
Yet here we work, hitched together, toilin’ and tillin’ in the
sod.
I wonder if you work for me, or I work for you, old Mule –
At times I think it’s a partnership between a mule and a doggone
fool.

When plowing,
we go the same distance, but I work harder than you.
You skim the ground on four good legs, and I hobble along on two.
So, Mule, mathematic’ly speaking, your four legs ‘gainst my two,
I do twice the work per leg; I do twice as much as you.

Now soon
we’ll be making the corn crop: that crop will be split three ways:
A third for you, a third for me, and a third for the landlord’s
pay.
You take your third and eat it. You’re getting the best, and how;
I split my third amongst a wife and eight kids, a banker, six
hens, and a cow!

And right
here, Mule, I might mention, that you only plow the ground.
I shuck the corn and husk it, while you’re hee-hawin’ around.
All fall and part of the winter, old Mule, you know it’s true,
I break my back with a cotton-sack, tryin’ to pay off the mortgage
on you.

The only
time I’m your better is when elections come.
A man can vote, and a mule can not, but that don’t worry you none.
Because you’re a wise old donkey; you know what to worry about.
You knew politics wouldn’t help you none, and I’m just finding
it out.

So, Mule,
confidentially speaking, would you change places with me?
Would you take up all my worries, and still contented be?
Would you swap places, I’m asking; of course you know we couldn’t,
But would you if you could – now tell the truth – you’re doggone
right you wouldn’t!

Pirate
Radio

The pirate
ship’s a-sailin’ along the stormy seas
There’s radio free america, just for you and me
The big radio stations are stinkin’ up the air
Their pusillanimous plot: it’s a real nightmare

Sing:
Aye-aye mateys, ho! Come on the pirate radio
Land of the free and home of the brave
FCC crawl in your grave.

The Coast
Guard’s a-comin’ to shut the pirates down
They don’t believe in free speech: the FCC’s in town
Their hacksaws and their hammers: they’re smashing all the beds
They won a little battle, but the war’s not over yet.

Sing:
Aye-aye mateys, ho! Come on the pirate radio
Land of the free and home of the brave
FCC crawl in your grave.

I want a
????? of freedom that we might tell the truth
We might play something good, and it wouldn’t be a goof.
What we need is liberty, not no stinkin’ laws!
Freedom from the FCC and their money-grubbing paws!

Sing:
Aye-aye mateys, ho! Come on the pirate radio
Land of the free and home of the brave
FCC crawl in your grave.

(spoken)
Crawl in there you perverts!

The pirate
flag’s a-waving, to fight the FCC!
Lilly-livered scalawags for the mendacity!
It’s fifty on the airways, we’re sculling lots of rum
We’ll make them walk the plank!
We’re havin’ lot’s of fun.

Sing:
Aye-aye mateys, ho! Come on the pirate radio
Land of the free and home of the brave
FCC crawl in your grave.

Aye-aye mateys,
ho! Come on the pirate radio
Land of the free and home of the brave
FCC crawl in your grave.

Sing:
Aye-aye mateys, ho! Come on the pirate radio
Land of the free and home of the brave
FCC crawl in your grave.

(spoken:)

Crawl in
there, you stinking, slimy swogs!

Aye, keel
haul them!

Make them
walk the plank!

Forty lashes!

Gouge their
eyes out!

Chop their
legs off!

(etc.)

Wabash
Cannonball

From the
great Atlantic Ocean to the wide Pacific shore,
from the green ol’ flowering mountains to ice-bound Labrador,
oh, she’s mighty tall and handsome
and, oh, quite loved by all
she’s the modern combination known as the Wabash Cannonball.

Now listen
to the jingle, the rumble, and the roar
as she glides along the woodlands, through the hills, and by the
shore.
Hear the mighty rush of the engines, hear that lonesome hobo’s
call,
As she travels through the jungles on the Wabash Cannonball

Now here’s
to daddy Claxton may your name forever stand
And always be remembered in our courts throughout our land
His earthly race is over and the curtains round him fall
We’ll carry him home to Dixie on the Wabash Cannonball

Now listen
to the jingle, the rumble, and the roar
as she glides along the woodlands, through the hills, and by the
shore.
Hear the mighty rush of the engines, hear that lonesome hobo’s
call,
As she travels through the jungles on the Wabash Cannonball

Well she
came down from Birmingham one cold December day
As she pulled into the station you could hear all the people say
She’s from Tennessee she’s long and she’s tall
She came down from Birmingham on the Wabash Cannonball

Now listen
to the jingle, the rumble, and the roar
as she glides along the woodlands, through the hills, and by the
shore.
Hear the mighty rush of the engines, hear that lonesome hobo’s
call,
As she travels through the jungles on the Wabash Cannonball

Ammonia
Avenue

Is there
no sign of light as we stand in the darkness
Watching the sun arise?
Is there no sign of life as we gaze at the waters
Into the strangers eyes?

And who are
we to criticize or scorn the things that they do?
For we shall seek and we shall find ammonia avenue

If we call
for the proof and we question the answers
Only the doubt will grow
Are we blind to the truth or a sign to believe in?
Only the wise will know

And word
by word they handed down the light that shines today
And those who came at first to scoff, remained behind to pray
And those who came at first to scoff, remained behind to pray

When you
can’t hear the rhyme and you can’t see the reason
Why should the hope remain?
For a man will be tired and his soul will grow weary
Living his life in vain

And who are
we to justify the right in all we do,
Until we seek until we find ammonia avenue?

Through all
the doubt somehow they knew
And stone by stone they built it high
Until the sun broke through
A ray of hope, a shining light: ammonia avenue.

Bright
Sunny South

From the
bright sunny south to the war I was sent,
Ere the days of my boyhood, I scarcely had spent.
From it’s cool shady forests and deep flowing streams,
Ever fond in my memory and sweet in my dreams.

Oh, my dear
little sister: I still see her tears.
When I had to leave home in our tender years.
And my sweet gentle mother, so dear to my heart,
It grieved me sincerely when we had to part.

Said my kind-hearted
father as he took my hand:
"As you go in defence of our dear native land,
"Son, be brave but show mercy whenever you can.
"Our hearts will be with you, ’til you return again."

In my bag
there’s a bible to show me the way,
Through my trials here on earth and to Heaven some day.
I will shoulder my musket and brandish my sword,
In defence of this land and the word of the Lord.

Bonnie
Blue Flag

We are a
band of brothers,
And native to the soil
Fighting for our property
We gained by honest toil.
And when our rights were threatened,
The cry rose near and far;
Hurrah for the Bonnie Blue Flag
That bears a single star!

Hurrah! Hurrah!
For Southern rights, Hurrah!
Hurrah for the Bonnie Blue Flag
That carries a single star!

As long as
the Union
Was faithful to her trust,
Like friends and brothers,
kind were we, and just;
But now, when Northern treachery
Attempts our rights to mar,
We hoist on high the Bonnie Blue flag
That bears a single star.

Hurrah! Hurrah!
For Southern rights, Hurrah!
Hurrah for the Bonnie Blue Flag
That carries a single star!

Jesse
James

Jesse James
was a man
Who killed many a man
He robbed the Glendale train
And he stole from the rich
And he gave to the poor
With a hand and a heart and a brain

Oh Jessie
had a wife, to mourn for his life
Three children they were brave
But that dirty little coward
Who shot Mr. Howard
Has laid poor Jesse in his grave

It was brother
Frank who robbed the Galton bank
and carried the money from the town
it was in the very place
that they had a little race
for they shot Captain Sheets to the ground.

Poor Jesse
had a wife to mourn for his life
Three children they were brave
But that dirty little coward
Who shot Mr. Howard
Has laid poor Jesse in his grave

Oh Jessie
had a wife, to mourn for his life
Three children they were so brave
But that dirty little coward
That shot Mr. Howard
Has laid (poor) Jesse James in his grave

The
Foggy Dew

As down the
glen one Easter morn
To a city fair rode I.
There armed lines of marching men
In squadrons passed me by.

No pipe did
hum,
no battle drum
did sound its loud tattoo.
But the Angelus Bells
o’er the Liffey swells
rang out in the foggy dew.

Right proudly
high in Dublin town
Hung they out a flag of war.
‘Twas better to die ‘neath that Irish sky
than at Sulva or Sud el Bar.

And from
the plains of Royal Meath
strong men came hurrying through
While Brittania’s huns
with their long range guns
sailed in through the foggy dew.

Their bravest
fell
and the requiem bell
rang mournfully and clear
For those who died
that Eastertide
in the springing of the year.

While the
world did gaze
with deep amaze
at those fearless men but few.
Who bore the fight
that freedom’s light
Might shine through the foggy dew.

And back
through the glen
I rode again.
And my heart with grief was sore.
For I parted then
with valiant men
Whom I never shall see more.

But to and
fro
in my dreams I go
And I kneel and pray for you.
For slavery fled
our glorious dead
when you fell in the foggy dew

Red
Right Hand

Take a little
walk to the edge of town
and go across the tracks
Where the viaduct looms,
like a bird of doom
As it shifts and cracks
Where secrets lie in the border fires,
in the humming wires
Hey man, you know
you’re never coming back
Past the square, past the bridge,
past the mills, past the stacks
On a gathering storm comes
a tall handsome man
In a dusty black coat with
a red right hand

He’ll wrap
you in his arms,
tell you that you’ve been a good boy
He’ll rekindle all the dreams
it took you a lifetime to destroy
He’ll reach deep into the hole,
heal your shrinking soul
But there won’t be a single thing that you can do
He’s a god, he’s a man,
he’s a ghost, he’s a guru
They’re whispering his name through this disappearing land
but hidden in his coat is a red right hand.

You don’t
have no money – he’ll get you some.
You don’t have no car – he’ll get you one.
You don’t have no self respect, you feel like an insect,
well don’t you worry buddy, ’cause here he comes
through the gallows and the barrio and the valley and the slums.
His shadow is cast wherever he stands,
stacks of green paper in his red right hand.

You’ll see
him in your nightmares,
you’ll see him in your dreams,
He’ll appear out of nowhere,
but he ain’t what he seems.
You’ll see him in your head,
on the TV screen,
hey, buddy, I’m warning you to turn it off.
he’s a ghost, he’s a god,
he’s a man, he’s a guru
You’re one microscopic cog in his catastrophic plan
designed and directed by his red right hand.

Everybody
Loves Me, Baby

<SPOKEN>:
One, two, three, four!

Fortune has
me well in hand, armies wait at my command
My gold lies in a foreign land buried deep beneath the sand
The angels guide my ev’ry prayer, my enemies are sick or dead
But all the victories I’ve led haven’t brought you to my bed

You see,
everybody loves me, baby, what’s the matter with you?
Won’tcha tell me what did I do to offend you?

Now the purest
race I’ve bred for thee to live in my democracy
And the highest human pedigree awaits your first-born boy, baby
And my face on ev’ry coin engraved, the anarchists are all enslaved
My own flag is forever waved by the grateful people I have saved

You see,
everybody loves me, baby, what’s the matter with you?
Won’tcha tell me what did I do to offend you?

Now, no man
is beyond my claim when land is seized in the people’s name
By evil men who rob and maim, if war is hell, I’m not to blame!
Why, you can’t blame me, I’m Heaven’s child, I’m the second son
of Mary mild
And I’m twice removed from Oscar Wilde, but he didn’t mind, why,
he just smiled

Yes, and
the ocean parts when I walk through, and the clouds dissolve and
the sky turns blue
I’m held in very great value by everyone I meet but you
’cause I’ve used my talents as I could, I’ve done some bad, I’ve
done some good
I did a whole lot better than they thought I would so, c’mon and
treat me like you should!

Because everybody
loves me, baby, what’s the matter with you?
Won’tcha tell me what did I do to offend you? <whoo, yeah!>

Everybody
loves me, baby, what’s the matter with you?
Won’tcha tell me what did I do to offend you?

Yeah, everybody
loves me, baby, what’s the matter with you?
Won’tcha tell me what did I do to offend you?

The
Grave

The grave
that they dug him had flowers
Gathered from the hillsides in bright summer colors,
And the brown earth bleached white at the edge of his gravestone.
He’s gone.

When the
wars of our nation did beckon,
A man barely twenty did answer the calling.
Proud of the trust that he placed in our nation,
He’s gone,
But eternity knows him, and it knows what we’ve done.

And the rain
fell like pearls on the leaves of the flowers
Leaving brown, muddy clay where the earth had been dry.
And deep in the trench he waited for hours,
As he held to his rifle and prayed not to die.

But the silence
of night was shattered by fire
As guns and grenades blasted sharp through the air.
And one after another his comrades were slaughtered.
In morgue of marines, alone standing there.

He crouched
ever lower, ever lower with fear.
"they can’t let me die! the can’t let me die here!
I’ll cover myself with the mud and the earth.
I’ll cover myself! I know I’m not brave!
The earth! the earth! the earth is my grave."

The grave
that they dug him had flowers
Gathered from the hillsides in bright summer colors,
And the brown earth bleached white at the edge of his gravestone.
He’s gone.

Reĝoj
de Cindro

Marŝas
glora armeo,

estas
la Eternulo kun vi.

Subkalkane
krakasiĝas la ostoj

de via
malamik’.

Ĉar
vi amas la landon,

vin ĝin
savas per mort’ kaj teror’,

forbruligas
vilaĝojn kaj urbojn.

Sed mi
petas vin:

Ho, demetu
la glavon soifan.

Ĝi
jam tiris vin multe tro for.

Vi ne
servu la reĝojn de cindro

kaj de
plor’.

Ĉu
vi sentas fieron

kreinta
dezerton sen viv’?

Ĉu
vi certas ke la historio

vere
dankos al vi?

Via koro
krias por sangxo kaj por venĝ'.

Sentoj
kaj instinktoj vin pelas al batal’.

Kie estas
nun viaj pensoj kaj prudent’?

Ĉu
ili ne aǔdeblas tra la bruo de la ŝtal’?

A glorious
army marches,

God is
with you.

Underfoot
are broken the bones of your enemy.

Because
you love the land,

You save
it by means of death and terrorism, you burn villages and
cities to the ground.

But I
ask you:

Oh, put
away your thirsty sword.

It has
already pulled you much too far.

Don't
serve the kings of ashes and of crys.

Do you
feel pride having created deserts devoid of life?

Are you
sure that history will truly thank you?

Your
heart cries for blood and for vengance. Feelings and instincts
impel you to battle.

Where
now are your reason and your prudence?

Are they
not able to hear through the sound of the steel?

La
Bonaj Vortoj

La bonaj
vortoj ne revenigos la filojn,

la bonaj
vortoj ne plenumigos viajn promesojn,

la bonaj
vortoj, tiuj de militestro via,

sanon
ne donos al mia popol’,

grundon
nek donos al mia popolo.

Nun,
malamas mi bonajn vortojn, kaj

freneziĝas
mia koro pro tiomaj promesaj rompitaj.

Troaj
la vortoj de l’homoj sen la parolrajt’,

troa
trompado, troaj miskomprenoj.

Vi povas
esperi retrofluon de ĉiuj riveroj,

kvazaŭ
libernaskito ekŝati povus vivi en malliberejo.

Nice
words will not bring back my sons,

Nice
words will not fulfill your promises,

Nice
words, those of your military leader,

Will
not restore health to my people.

Now I
hate nice words, and my heart launches into a frenzy over
those broken promises.

Too many
words by people with no right to speak, too much deceit, too
much misunderstanding.

You can
hope for all rivers to reverse their course, as well as you
can hope that a freeborn person would become happy to live
in a prison.

Right
Here, Right Now

A woman on
the radio talked about revolution
When it’s already passed her by
Bob Dylan didn’t have this to sing about you
You know it feels good to be alive

I was alive
and I waited, waited
I was alive and I waited for this
Right here, right now
There is no other place I want to be
Right here, right now
Watching the world wake up from history

I saw the
decade in, when it seemed
The world could change at the blink of an eye
And if anything
Then there’s your sign… of the times

I was alive
and I waited, waited
I was alive and I waited for this
Right here, right now

I was alive
and I waited, waited
I was alive and I waited for this
Right here, right now
There is no other place I want to be
Right here, right now
Watching the world wake up from history

Right here,
right now
There is no other place I want to be
Right here, right now
Watching the world wake up from history

Right here,
right now
There is no other place I want to be
Right here, right now
Watching the world wake up…

America

Far
We’ve been traveling far
Without a home
But not without a star

Free
Only want to be free
We huddle close
Hang on to a dream

On the boats
and on the planes
They’re coming to America
Never looking back again
They’re coming to America

Home, don’t
it seem so far away
Oh, we’re traveling light today
In the eye of the storm
In the eye of the storm

Home, to
a new and a shiny place
Make our bed, and we’ll say our grace
Freedom’s light burning warm
Freedom’s light burning warm

Everywhere
around the world
They’re coming to America
Every time that flag’s unfurled
They’re coming to America

Got a dream
to take them there
They’re coming to America
Got a dream they’ve come to share
They’re coming to America

They’re coming
to America
They’re coming to America
They’re coming to America
They’re coming to America

Today, today,
today, today, today
My country ’tis of thee
Today
Sweet land of liberty
Today
Of thee I sing
Today
Of thee I sing
Today

Philadelphia
Freedom

I used to
be a rolling stone
You know if the cause was right
I’d leave to find the answer on the road
I used to be a heart beating for someone
But the times have changed
The less I say the more my work gets done

`Cause I
live and breathe this Philadelphia freedom
From the day that I was born I’ve waved the flag
Philadelphia freedom took me knee-high to a man
Yeah gave me peace of mind my daddy never had

Oh Philadelphia
freedom shine on me, I love you
Shine a light through the eyes of the ones left behind
Shine a light shine a light
Shine a light won’t you shine a light
Philadelphia freedom I love you, yes I do

If you choose
to you can live your life alone
Some people choose the city
Some others choose the good old family home
I like living easy without family ties
Till the whippoorwill of freedom zapped me
Right between the eyes

Kilted
Yaksmen Anthem

Our country
reeks of trees
Our Yaks are really large
And they smell like rotting beef carcasses

And we have
to clean up after them
And our saddle sores are the best
We proudly wear women’s clothing
And searing sand blows up our skirts

And the buzzards,
they soar overhead
And poisonous snakes will devour us whole
And our bones will bleach in the sun

And we will
probably go to (loud farting noise)
And that is our great reward
For being the-uh Royal Canadian Kilted Yaksmen!

January
6, 2007

Gil
Guillory [send him mail]
is
an engineer in Houston.

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