My favorite anti-war song from the old days
Perhaps it's because I have a 17-year-old grandchild, or perhaps it's the in-coming college freshmen I've been meeting with all summer, or perhaps it's just that I work all day with college-aged students--or perhaps it's that old anti-war protestors never die--or all of the above--
In any case, once again I find myself resenting the old men who send out fine young people to die for reasons the old wankers dare not reveal.
Judy Collins sang this--perhaps I love it because it combines politics and religion, and that appeals greatly to me.
The Story of Isaac
Leonard Cohen (and Judy Collins)
The door it opened slowly,
my father he came in,
I was nine years old.
And he stood so tall ab ove me,
his blue eyes they were shining
and his voice was very cold.
He said, "I've had a vision
and you know I'm strong and holy,
I must do what I've been told."
So he started up the mountain,
I was running, he was walking,
and his axe was made of gold.
Well, the trees they got much smaller,
yes, the lake a lady's mirror,
when we stopped to drink some wine.
Then he threw the bottle over.
Broke a minute later
and he put his hand on mine.
Thought I saw an eagle
but it might have been a vulture,
I never could decide.
Then my father built an altar,
he looked once behind his shoulder,
he knew I would not hide.
You who build these altars now
to sacrifice these children,
you must not do it anymore.
A scheme is not a vision
and you never have been tempted
by the devil or the Lord.
You who stand above them now,
your hatchets blunt and bloody,
you were not there before,
when I lay upon a mountain
and my father's hand was trembling
with the beauty of the word.
And if you call me brother now,
forgive me if I inquire,
"Just according to whose plan?"
When it all comes down to dust
I will kill you if I must,
I will help you if I can.
And may I never learn to scorn
the body out of chaos born,
the woman and the man.
Have mercy on our uniform,
man of peace or man of war,
the peacock spreads his fan.
In any case, once again I find myself resenting the old men who send out fine young people to die for reasons the old wankers dare not reveal.
Judy Collins sang this--perhaps I love it because it combines politics and religion, and that appeals greatly to me.
The Story of Isaac
Leonard Cohen (and Judy Collins)
The door it opened slowly,
my father he came in,
I was nine years old.
And he stood so tall ab ove me,
his blue eyes they were shining
and his voice was very cold.
He said, "I've had a vision
and you know I'm strong and holy,
I must do what I've been told."
So he started up the mountain,
I was running, he was walking,
and his axe was made of gold.
Well, the trees they got much smaller,
yes, the lake a lady's mirror,
when we stopped to drink some wine.
Then he threw the bottle over.
Broke a minute later
and he put his hand on mine.
Thought I saw an eagle
but it might have been a vulture,
I never could decide.
Then my father built an altar,
he looked once behind his shoulder,
he knew I would not hide.
You who build these altars now
to sacrifice these children,
you must not do it anymore.
A scheme is not a vision
and you never have been tempted
by the devil or the Lord.
You who stand above them now,
your hatchets blunt and bloody,
you were not there before,
when I lay upon a mountain
and my father's hand was trembling
with the beauty of the word.
And if you call me brother now,
forgive me if I inquire,
"Just according to whose plan?"
When it all comes down to dust
I will kill you if I must,
I will help you if I can.
And may I never learn to scorn
the body out of chaos born,
the woman and the man.
Have mercy on our uniform,
man of peace or man of war,
the peacock spreads his fan.
posted by Lynn Holleman Rudloff | 11:18 AM
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