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Deportees (Woody Guthrie)
The crops are all in and the peaches are rotting
The oranges are filed in their creosote dumps
They're flying 'em back to the Mexico border
To take all their money to wade back again

My father's own father, he waded that river,
They took all the money he made in his life;
My brothers and sisters come working the fruit trees,
And they rode the truck till they took down and died.

Goodbye to my Juan, goodbye Rosalita
Adios mes amigos, Jesus y Maria
You won't have a name when you ride the big airplane
All they will call you will be deportees

Some of us are illegal, and some are not wanted,
Our work contract's out and we have to move on;
Six hundred miles to that Mexican border,
They chase us like outlaws, like rustlers, like thieves.

We died in your hills, we died in your deserts,
We died in your valleys and died on your plains.
We died 'neath your trees and we died in your bushes,
Both sides of the river, we died just the same.

Goodbye to my Juan, goodbye Rosalita
Adios mes amigos, Jesus y Maria
You won't have a name when you ride the big airplane
All they will call you will be deportees

The sky plane caught fire over Los Gatos Canyon,
A fireball of lightning, and shook all our hills,
Who are these comrades who are falling like dry leaves?
Radio said, "They are just deportees"

Is this the best way we can grow our big orchards?
Is this the best way we can raise our good crops?
To fall like dry leaves and rot on out topsoil
And be known by no names except "deportees"

[Qualche tempo fa era disponibile su Youtube anche la versione di Bob Dylan e Joan Baez dal Rolling thunder tour (1976). La suggerisco a chi riesca a ritrovarla.]

Bob Dylan: North Country Blues (1962)

Come gather 'round friends
And I'll tell you a tale
Of when the red iron pits ran plenty
But the cardboard filled windows
And old men on the benches
Tell you now that the whole town is empty.

In the north end of town
My own children are grown
But I was raised on the other
In the wee hours of youth
May mother took sick
And I was brought up by my brother.

The iron ore it poured
As the years passed the door
The drag lines an' the shovels they was a-hummin'
'Til one day my brother
Failed to come home
The same as my father before him.

Well a long winter's wait
From the window I watched
My friends they couldn't have been kinder
And my schooling was cut
As I quit in the spring
To marry John Thomas, a miner.

Oh the years passed again
And the givin' was good
With the lunch bucket filled every season
What with three babies born
The work was cut down
To a half a day's shift with no reason.

Then the shaft was soon shut
And more work was cut
And the fire in the air, it felt frozen
'Til a man come to speak
And he said in one week
That number eleven was closin'.

They say in the East
They're payin' too high
They say that your ore ain't worth diggin'
That it's much cheaper down
In the South American towns
Where the miners work almost for nothin'.

So the mining gates locked
And the red iron rotted
And the room smelled heavy from drinkin'
Where the sad silent song
Made the hour twice as long
As I waited for the sun to go sinking.

I lived by the window
As he talked to himself
The silence of tongues it was building
Then one morning's wake
The bed it was bare
And I's left alone with three children.

The summer is gone
The ground's turning cold
The stores one by one they're a-foldin'
My children will go
As soon they grow
For there ain't nothin' here now to hold them.

Arlo Guthrie: Deportees

Gian Maria Testa: Una barca scura

Gualtiero Bertelli: Stucky (1975)

Bob Dylan: North Country Blues (1962)

Il periodo in cui chiuse il mulino Stucky a Venezia, la metà degli anni Cinquanta, è anche il periodo della crisi delle miniere nel nord degli Stati Uniti, come si racconta nella successiva canzone di Bob Dylan, che mi piace affiancare al racconto di Gualtiero Bertelli.

Gualtiero Bertelli e Gianantonio Stella: L'orda. Quando gli albanesi eravamo noi.

Nanni Svampa: Erba Matta (traduzione di George Brassens)

Gualtiero Bertelli: Erba Mata

Gualtiero Bertelli: Sora un treno

Francesco Guccini: 100 Pennsylvania Avenue

Enzo Jannacci: Vincenzina e la fabbrica

Enzo Jannacci: La sera che partì mio padre (1967)

Luigi Tenco: Mi sono innamorato di te

Luigi Tenco: cara maestra

Francesco de Gregori: Bene (1973?)

Francesco de Gregori: La campana (1978)

Edoardo Bennato: Venderò

James Taylor: Fire and Rain,
Neil Young: Heart of Gold

Ivan Graziani: Gabriele d'Annunzio

Ivan Graziani: Lugano addio (live)

Ivan Graziani: pigro (live)
La persona pigra è portata a giudicare senza rendersi conto delle cose,
diventa aggressiva e quindi violenta.

Assemblea Musicale TeatraleAmerica (Alloisio-Martini)

L'America vista dalle forze della NATO,
dal sacco a pelo di chi non c'è mai arrivato,
L'America letta sopra un vecchio Topolino,
immaginata da chi vive ad est di Berlino.
America, dietro quel lontano fumo grigio di Milano.

L'America dove si diventa presidente
facendo credere ad un voto della gente,
facendo credere a patetici programmi
per governare meglio un mondo senza drammi.
America, dove vive il bene e il male del pensiero occidentale.
America dove nascono gli artisti ma anche i negri musicisti.

L'America dove ormai si drogano anche i bambini,
dove a raggiungere la luna sono i primi.
L'America ha fatto anche la rivoluzione
per far pagare meno caro il tè a un padrone.
America, dietro le potenti mani dei parenti siciliani.
America, dietro il condor che declina sull'America Latina.
America, golpe, spari, grossi affari per le multinazionali.
America, la montagna di potere che non riesci più a vedere.

Claudio Lolli: Viaggio (versione del 1975)

Claudio Lolli: Viaggio (versione del 1998)

Claudio Lolli: Da zero e dintorni (versione del 1998)

Claudio Lolli: Ho visto anche degli zingari felici.

Joan Baez: Diamonds and Rust.

Joan Baez: Gracias a la vida
Una canzone di Violeta Parra, cantautrice cilena, morta suicida nel 1967.

Gracias a la Vida que me ha dado tanto
me dio dos luceros que cuando los abro
perfecto distingo lo negro del blanco
y en el alto cielo su fondo estrellado
y en las multitudes el hombre que yo amo.

Gracias a la vida, que me ha dado tanto
me ha dado el oido que en todo su ancho
graba noche y dia grillos y canarios
martillos, turbinas, ladridos, chubascos
y la voz tan tierna de mi bien amado.

Gracias a la Vida que me ha dado tanto
me ha dado el sonido y el abedecedario
con él las palabras que pienso y declaro
madre amigo hermano y luz alumbrando,
la ruta del alma del que estoy amando.

Gracias a la Vida que me ha dado tanto
me ha dado la marcha de mis pies cansados
con ellos anduve ciudades y charcos,
playas y desiertos montañas y llanos
y la casa tuya, tu calle y tu patio.

Gracias a la Vida que me ha dado tanto
me dio el corazón que agita su marco
cuando miro el fruto del cerebro humano,
cuando miro el bueno tan lejos del malo,
cuando miro el fondo de tus ojos claros.

Gracias a la Vida que me ha dado tanto
me ha dado la risa y me ha dado el llanto,
así yo distingo dicha de quebranto
los dos materiales que forman mi canto
y el canto de ustedes que es el mismo canto
y el canto de todos que es mi propio canto.

Joan Baez: Here's to you
(Joan Baez e Ennio Morricone per un memorabile film su Sacco e Vanzetti)

Joan Baez: The ballad of Sacco and Vanzetti

Father, yes, I am a prisoner
Fear not to relay my crime
The crime is loving the forsaken
Only silence is shame

And now I'll tell you what's against us
An art that's lived for centuries
Go through the years and you will find
What's blackened all of history
Against us is the law
With its immensity of strength and power
Against us is the law!
Police know how to make a man
A guilty or an innocent
Against us is the power of police!
The shameless lies that men have told
Will ever more be paid in gold
Against us is the power of the gold!
Against us is racial hatred
And the simple fact that we are poor

My father dear, I am a prisoner
Don't be ashamed to tell my crime
The crime of love and brotherhood
And only silence is shame

With me I have my love, my innocence,
The workers, and the poor
For all of this I'm safe and strong
And hope is mine
Rebellion, revolution don't need dollars
They need this instead
Imagination, suffering, light and love
And care for every human being
You never steal, you never kill
You are a part of strength and life
The revolution goes from man to man
And heart to heart
And I sense when I look at the stars
That we are children of life
Death is small

Joan Baez: Blessed are the mercyful

Les Anarchistes: O Gorizia tu sia maledetta
Una delle più famose canzoni popolari della prima guerra mondiale.

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Deportees (Woody Guthrie) The crops are all in and the peaches are rotting The oranges are filed in their creosote dumps They're flying 'em back to the Mexico border To take all their money to wade back again My father's own father, he waded that river, They took all the money he made in his life; My brothers and sisters come working the fruit trees, And they rode the truck till they took down and died. Goodbye to my Juan, goodbye Rosalita Adios mes amigos, Jesus y Maria You won't have a name when you ride the big airplane All they will call you will be deportees Some of us are illegal, and some are not wanted, Our work contract's out and we have to move on; Six hundred miles to that Mexican border, They chase us like outlaws, like rustlers, like thieves. We died in your hills, we died in your deserts, We died in your valleys and died on your plains. We died 'neath your trees and we died in your bushes, Both sides of the river, we died just the same. Goodbye to my Juan, goodbye Rosalita Adios mes amigos, Jesus y Maria You won't have a name when you ride the big airplane All they will call you will be deportees The sky plane caught fire over Los Gatos Canyon, A fireball of lightning, and shook all our hills, Who are these comrades who are falling like dry leaves? Radio said, "They are just deportees" Is this the best way we can grow our big orchards? Is this the best way we can raise our good crops? To fall like dry leaves and rot on out topsoil And be known by no names except "deportees" [Qualche tempo fa era disponibile su Youtube anche la versione di Bob Dylan e Joan Baez dal Rolling thunder tour (1976). La suggerisco a chi riesca a ritrovarla.] Bob Dylan: North Country Blues (1962) Come gather 'round friends And I'll tell you a tale Of when the red iron pits ran plenty But the cardboard filled windows And old men on the benches Tell you now that the whole town is empty. In the north end of town My own children are grown But I was raised on the other In the wee hours of youth May mother took sick And I was brought up by my brother. The iron ore it poured As the years passed the door The drag lines an' the shovels they was a-hummin' 'Til one day my brother Failed to come home The same as my father before him. Well a long winter's wait From the window I watched My friends they couldn't have been kinder And my schooling was cut As I quit in the spring To marry John Thomas, a miner. Oh the years passed again And the givin' was good With the lunch bucket filled every season What with three babies born The work was cut down To a half a day's shift with no reason. Then the shaft was soon shut And more work was cut And the fire in the air, it felt frozen 'Til a man come to speak And he said in one week That number eleven was closin'. They say in the East They're payin' too high They say that your ore ain't worth diggin' That it's much cheaper down In the South American towns Where the miners work almost for nothin'. So the mining gates locked And the red iron rotted And the room smelled heavy from drinkin' Where the sad silent song Made the hour twice as long As I waited for the sun to go sinking. I lived by the window As he talked to himself The silence of tongues it was building Then one morning's wake The bed it was bare And I's left alone with three children. The summer is gone The ground's turning cold The stores one by one they're a-foldin' My children will go As soon they grow For there ain't nothin' here now to hold them.	Arlo Guthrie: Deportees Gian Maria Testa: Una barca scura Gualtiero Bertelli: Stucky (1975) Bob Dylan: North Country Blues (1962) Il periodo in cui chiuse il mulino Stucky a Venezia, la metà degli anni Cinquanta, è anche il periodo della crisi delle miniere nel nord degli Stati Uniti, come si racconta nella successiva canzone di Bob Dylan, che mi piace affiancare al racconto di Gualtiero Bertelli. Gualtiero Bertelli e Gianantonio Stella: L'orda. Quando gli albanesi eravamo noi. Nanni Svampa: Erba Matta (traduzione di George Brassens) Gualtiero Bertelli: Erba Mata Gualtiero Bertelli: Sora un treno Francesco Guccini: 100 Pennsylvania Avenue Enzo Jannacci: Vincenzina e la fabbrica Enzo Jannacci: La sera che partì mio padre (1967) Luigi Tenco: Mi sono innamorato di te Luigi Tenco: cara maestra Francesco de Gregori: Bene (1973?) Francesco de Gregori: La campana (1978) Edoardo Bennato: Venderò James Taylor: Fire and Rain, Neil Young: Heart of Gold Ivan Graziani: Gabriele d'Annunzio Ivan Graziani: Lugano addio (live) Ivan Graziani: pigro (live) La persona pigra è portata a giudicare senza rendersi conto delle cose, diventa aggressiva e quindi violenta. Assemblea Musicale TeatraleAmerica (Alloisio-Martini) L'America vista dalle forze della NATO, dal sacco a pelo di chi non c'è mai arrivato, L'America letta sopra un vecchio Topolino, immaginata da chi vive ad est di Berlino. America, dietro quel lontano fumo grigio di Milano. L'America dove si diventa presidente facendo credere ad un voto della gente, facendo credere a patetici programmi per governare meglio un mondo senza drammi. America, dove vive il bene e il male del pensiero occidentale. America dove nascono gli artisti ma anche i negri musicisti. L'America dove ormai si drogano anche i bambini, dove a raggiungere la luna sono i primi. L'America ha fatto anche la rivoluzione per far pagare meno caro il tè a un padrone. America, dietro le potenti mani dei parenti siciliani. America, dietro il condor che declina sull'America Latina. America, golpe, spari, grossi affari per le multinazionali. America, la montagna di potere che non riesci più a vedere. Claudio Lolli: Viaggio (versione del 1975) Claudio Lolli: Viaggio (versione del 1998) Claudio Lolli: Da zero e dintorni (versione del 1998) Claudio Lolli: Ho visto anche degli zingari felici. Joan Baez: Diamonds and Rust. Joan Baez: Gracias a la vida Una canzone di Violeta Parra, cantautrice cilena, morta suicida nel 1967. Gracias a la Vida que me ha dado tanto me dio dos luceros que cuando los abro perfecto distingo lo negro del blanco y en el alto cielo su fondo estrellado y en las multitudes el hombre que yo amo. Gracias a la vida, que me ha dado tanto me ha dado el oido que en todo su ancho graba noche y dia grillos y canarios martillos, turbinas, ladridos, chubascos y la voz tan tierna de mi bien amado. Gracias a la Vida que me ha dado tanto me ha dado el sonido y el abedecedario con él las palabras que pienso y declaro madre amigo hermano y luz alumbrando, la ruta del alma del que estoy amando. Gracias a la Vida que me ha dado tanto me ha dado la marcha de mis pies cansados con ellos anduve ciudades y charcos, playas y desiertos montañas y llanos y la casa tuya, tu calle y tu patio. Gracias a la Vida que me ha dado tanto me dio el corazón que agita su marco cuando miro el fruto del cerebro humano, cuando miro el bueno tan lejos del malo, cuando miro el fondo de tus ojos claros. Gracias a la Vida que me ha dado tanto me ha dado la risa y me ha dado el llanto, así yo distingo dicha de quebranto los dos materiales que forman mi canto y el canto de ustedes que es el mismo canto y el canto de todos que es mi propio canto. Joan Baez: Here's to you (Joan Baez e Ennio Morricone per un memorabile film su Sacco e Vanzetti) Joan Baez: The ballad of Sacco and Vanzetti Father, yes, I am a prisoner Fear not to relay my crime The crime is loving the forsaken Only silence is shame And now I'll tell you what's against us An art that's lived for centuries Go through the years and you will find What's blackened all of history Against us is the law With its immensity of strength and power Against us is the law! Police know how to make a man A guilty or an innocent Against us is the power of police! The shameless lies that men have told Will ever more be paid in gold Against us is the power of the gold! Against us is racial hatred And the simple fact that we are poor My father dear, I am a prisoner Don't be ashamed to tell my crime The crime of love and brotherhood And only silence is shame With me I have my love, my innocence, The workers, and the poor For all of this I'm safe and strong And hope is mine Rebellion, revolution don't need dollars They need this instead Imagination, suffering, light and love And care for every human being You never steal, you never kill You are a part of strength and life The revolution goes from man to man And heart to heart And I sense when I look at the stars That we are children of life Death is small Joan Baez: Blessed are the mercyful Les Anarchistes: O Gorizia tu sia maledetta Una delle più famose canzoni popolari della prima guerra mondiale.