THE NEW AMERICA

tune: America

My country is it of thee?
Land bereft of Liberty
Is it of thee I sing?
Land where the Indians died
Land of the Slave-Holders' pride
From ev'ry mountain's strip-mined side
Let Pollution spring.

My Know-Nothing country, thee
Land of Great College Fees
Thy hair's been dyed.
We hear thy rocks & rolls
Jingled by them greedy souls
And all thru the Land they Stole
Thy TV is refried.

Thy gunshots shoot the breeze
Gooks hang from world-wide trees
You own The Bomb.
Lied to in all our schools
Beaten with their Golden Rules
Treated like a bunch of fools
Our time will come.

Their propertied God, to thee
Architect of Tyranny
To thee we won't cower.
Soon may our Land be bright
With Rebellion's Holy Light
In daring love is our might
Common People to Power!