โหลดเพลง mp3 The Outcaste - Tom Russell

The Outcaste - Tom Russell/Dave Van Ronk
Oh gather 'round me people lend and ear now if you please

Your promised land was settled by bastards drunks and thieves

Excuse me if it offens you but I'm the worst of all of these

Yes I destroyed the family tree I am the Outcast

I'm your inbred second cousin who was kept inside a shed

I'm the cross-eyed little stutterer who always wet the bed

I'm yer queer Uncle Harry yer retarded Uncle Fred

I'm the one they left for dead I am The Outcast

I've embarrassed folks at weddings birthdays and at wakes

I'm the cur who passed out face down in your anniversary cake

I'm the black sheep the Philanderer the Louse the Souse
The Rake
The remittance man the Snake - the bloody outcast

Oh forebear with yer pity my functions very plain

We've come here from the Olde World and we've gone a touch insane

On a social scale ya need a foil to bear the family stain

I am the Joker in yer game; I am The Outcast

Oh the blackman and the Indian the Chinaman the Jew

They built yer friggin railroad and they picked yer cotton too

They washed yer dirty laundry and they tied yer children's shoes

They got a right to sing the blues 'cause they were
Outcasts
Now we worship politicians as if they all were saints

Put their faces on our money pillow slips and plates

We should love this land for what it is and not for what it ain't

Oh their game is fueled by hate the hate of outcasts

The Norwegians hate the Swedish and the Swedes they hate the
Finns

The Finns they hate the Russians and the Russians hate the Yids

Spicks and Wops and Gresears; Kikes and Spades and Ginny Hens
Hatred's blowin' in the wind 10 million outcasts

Oh beautiful for spacious skies and amber waves of grain

Grain distilled to make the rye that pickled old Thom Paine

Old Georgie built the Whitehouse with slaves who died in pain
But Georgies quarries made the gain from blood of outcasts

Move in a little closer now the side show must begin

History will repeat itself: again again again

On the immigration totem pole the low man never wins

But competition ain't a sin God help the outcast

So step right up ya pilgrims the trains a leavin' soon

We got acreage out in Iowa for the likes of folks like you

A quarter section in a flood plain; forty acres and a mule

Sign right here ya bloody fools; Welcome ye Outcasts