‘Good Old-Fashioned War . . .’
by whiteray
It’s Memorial Day. Here’s “John Brown” by Bob Dylan. It’s from Broadside Ballads, Vol. 1, first released in 1963 on Folkways Records and re-released in 2004 on Smithsonian Folkways.
John Brown went off to war to fight on a foreign shore
His mother sure was proud of him!
He stood so straight and tall in his uniform and all
His mother’s face broke out all in a grin
You make me proud to know you hold a gun
Do what the captain says, lots of medals you will get
And we’ll put them on the wall when you come home”
When that old train pulled out, John’s ma began to shout
Tellin’ ev’ryone in the neighborhood:
“That’s my son that’s about to go, he’s a soldier now, you know”
She made well sure her neighbors understood
She got a letter once in a while and her face broke into a smile
As she showed them to the people from next door
And she bragged about her son with his uniform and gun
And these things she called a good old-fashioned war
Lawd, lawd! Good old-fashioned war!
Then the letters ceased to come, for a long time they did not come
They ceased to come for about nine months or more
Then a letter finally came saying, “Go down and meet the train
Your son’s a-coming home from the war”
She smiled and went right down, she looked up and all around
But she did not see her soldier son in sight
But as all the people passed, she saw her son at last
When she did she could hardly believe her eyes
His face was all shot up and his hand was all blown off
And he wore a metal brace around his waist
He whispered kind of slow, in a voice she did not know
While she could not even recognize his face!
“Oh tell me, my darling son, pray tell me what they’ve done
How is it that you’ve come to be this way?”
He tried his best to talk as his mouth could hardly move
And the mother had to turn her face away
“Don’t you remember, Ma, when I went off to war
You thought it was the best thing I could do?
I was on the battleground, you were home . . . acting proud
Thank God you wasn’t standing in my shoes”
“Lord, I thought when I was there, God, what am I doing here?
I’m a-tryin’ to kill somebody or die tryin’
But the thing that scared me most was when my enemy came close
And I saw that his face looked just like mine”
Lord, lord! Just like mine!
“And I couldn’t help but think, through the thunder rolling stink
That I was just a puppet in a play
And through the roar and smoke, the string is finally broke
And a cannonball, it blew my eyes away”
As he turned away to walk, his Ma was still in shock
Seein’ the metal brace that helped him stand
But as he turned to go, he called his mother close
And he dropped his medals down into her hand
Lawd, lawd, down into her hand.
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