Earthsong (for Country Joe)

Two of my favorite albums of the late 60s were both by Country Joe and the Fish:  “Electric Music for the Mind and Body” and “I-Feel-Like-I’m Fixin’-To-Die Rag.”

Especially jewels like “Section 43,” “Bass Strings,” and “Grace” from Electric Music, and “Who am I,” “Pat’s Song,” “Magoo,” and “Colors for Susan” from Fixin’ To Die. I literally worshiped the band and more or less wore out my LPs in that 60s’ cold Stockholm apartment of mine.

Yes, there may have been some inhaling involved, but not to the extreme. Once these albums were released on CDs I bought them immediately. I still play them often. Luckily CDs don’t wear out—at least not to my knowledge, nor, definitely not, do my mp3s of the same albums (aka all bases covered).

And I surely had Country Joe’s approach and treatment of the song in mind when I wrote “Earthsong” — and in a perfect universe he would do the vocals here for he (not I) can do it justice.

But no such luck (not yet, anyway).

Also, this is indeed an ecology song, for I see our Earth under constant onslaught from escalating consumption, where our limited resources are put under enormous pressure to gratify the greedy must, must, must devour that seems to be the order of these Earthly day.

At this rate we’ll implode the place one of these centuries.

The Words:

Blue is her color
gray may conceal her
fair water into rain

Look out any window
dawn does wonder
whether to remain

or as me or as thee
or as thoughtfully
or as morning concede
one more day for to color us real

or as wandering thought
or as restlessly
or as turbulence bleed
an open wound that no thing can heal

Brown is her color
dust may conceal her
once meadow once rain

Look out any window
day does wonder
whether to remain

or as sky or as sea
or as windfully
or as evening agree
not to fade but to render us real

or as wandering thought
or as tearfully
or as desperate flee
this open wound that no thing will heal

Stillnesses hurt as senses desert us
humbled and blinded and mute

Memories cling
to things that they can’t refute

Leaving this Earth and all that she brought us
no longer forest nor stream

Memories turn
to those who would yearn
and pray for the Earth we dream

White is her color
pure light to see her
once fertile once rain

Look out any window
night does wonder
whether to remain

or as eye or as free
or as truthfully
or as ocean recede
one last time and so whisper us real

or as wandering thought
or as hopefully
or as wonderful deed
to tend this wound that beauty might heal

Stillnesses hurt as senses desert us
humbled and blinded and mute

Memories cling
to things that they can’t refute

Leaving this Earth and all that we brought her
heroes and those they redeem

Memories turn
to those who would yearn
and pray for the Earth we dream

Ulf Wolf
January 1992/January 2015
Copyright © 2015 by Wolfstuff