A song ain't nothing but a conversation fixed up to where you can talk it over and over without getting tired of it.
I better quit my talking 'cause I told you all I know But please remember, pardner, wherever you may go The people are building a peaceful world, and when the job is done, That'll be the biggest thing that man has ever done.
You can't write a good song about a whorehouse unless you've been in one.
A folk song is what's wrong and how to fix it or it could be who's hungry and where their mouth is or who's out of work and where the job is or who's broke and where the money is or who's carrying a gun and where the peace is.
All about a human being is, it's a great big hoping machine.
I ain't a communist necessarily, but I been in the red all my life.
Now as I look around, it's mighty plain to see, This world is such a great and a funny place to be. Oh, the gamblin' man is rich, an' the workin' man is poor, And I ain't got no home in this world anymore.
The words are the important thing. Don't worry about tunes. Take a tune, sing high when they sing low, sing fast when they sing slow, and you've got a new tune.
All you can write is what you see.
This land is made for you and me.
This machine kills fascists.
If you walk across my camera I will flash the world your story.
It's round the world I've traveled; it's round the world I've roamed; but I've yet to see an outlaw drive a family from its home
Left wing, chicken wing, it don't make no difference to me.
If you want to learn something, just steal it.
If you play more than two chords, you're showing off.
Uncle Sam took up the challenge in the year of '33 For the farmer and the factory and all of you and me. He said, "Roll along Columbia. You can ramble to the sea, But river while you're ramblin' you can do some work for me."
I worked in your orchards of peaches and prunes. I slept on the ground in the light of the moon. On the edge of the city you'll see us and then, we come with the dust and we go with the wind.
One bright sunny morning in the shadow of the steeple, by the Relief Office, I saw my people - As they stood hungry, I stood there wondering if God blessed America for me.
My eyes has been my camera taking pictures of the world and my songs has been my messages that I tried to scatter across the back sides and along the steps of the fire escapes and on the window sills and through the dark halls.
I have decided long ago that my songs and ballads would not get the hugs and kisses of the capitalistic experts.
You oil field workers, come and listen to me I'm goin' to tell you a story about old John D. That company union made a fool out of me. That company union don't charge no dues It leaves you a-singing them Rockefeller blues. That company union made a fool out of me. Takes that good ole C.I.O., boys To keep that oil a-rollin', rollin' over the sea. Takes that good ole C.I.O., boys To keep that oil a-rollin' over the sea.
Okemah was one of the singingest, square dancingest, drinkingest, yellingest, preachingest, walkingest, talkingest, laughingest, cryingest, shootingest, fist fightingest, bleedingest, gamblingest, gun, club and razor carryingest of our ranch towns and farm towns, because it blossomed out into one of our first Oil Boom Towns.
I like to write about wherever I happen to be.
Nobody living can ever stop me. As I go walking my freedom highway. Nobody living can make me turn back. This land was made for you and me.
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