Joan Baez Album

(Words and Music by Joan Baez)

Seems we've been to heaven darling
Ah the sad wind blows
But I have lost my way my darling
Tell me how it goes
While the mist is rising darling
Ah the sad wind blows
Tell me how we met my darling
Tell me all you know

Well I am somewhat older darling
Ah the sad wind blows
And you are so much younger darling
That's the way it goes
And we looked so good together
Ah the sad wind blows
Out of all the summer flowers
I had picked the rose

Take me in your arms my darling
While the sad wind blows
Tell me that this pain will leave me
Tell me how it goes
Ah if this pain should ever leave me
Only heaven knows

© 1973, 1975 Chandos Music (ASCAP)

I am less than the song I am singing
I am more than I thought I could be
Spent some time as a child in day dreaming
As a young one I sailed on the sea

So come stand by my side where I am going
Take my hand if I stumble to fall
It's the strength that you share when your growing
That gives me what I need most of all
That gives me what I need most of all

Diffrent minds, diffrent ways
Diffrent reasons to believe
Some far journeyswe have taken
Some sweet dreams we've had to leave

And I want you to be happy
And I hope you always will
Or I cannot rest easy
Till all your dreams are real
Till all your dreams are real

(Words and Music by Joan Baez)

A young gypsy fell out in a slumber
Heading north with a driver he knew
Someone he'd lived with and trusted
A young woman who trusted him too

That very same day the young gypsy
Had come from a farm in the west
Where the children had played throughout the heat of the day
Affording the gypsy no rest

And the gypsy's bones were weary
And the front seat looked secure
And the gypsy slept on until the sun it was gone
And the stars pierced the eyes of the girl at his side

The next morning's day would be Easter
He'd dress in his only fine shirt
And shuffle through clusters of strangers
With his gaze and his shoes in the dirt

And the woman who loved him would watch him
Protect him from curious stares
For the womenfolk tend to be friendly
And the gypsy's as young as he's fair

And the evening brought on laughter
And jars of bright red wine
And the gypsy drank some and the gypsy had fun
And his dancing got wild and the grandmothers smiled

Sleeping came easily after
In the arms of the woman that fold
Up the secrets and dreams of the gypsy
That will never be sought or be sold
In fact, they will never be told
For the gypsy is two years old

© 1973 Chandos Music (ASCAP)

Mary Call, Mary Call
You never stumble, you never fall
Silver stars and lilies call
For the yearning of the young one
Named Mary Call
She's the treasure of the mountains
And the dearest one of all.

Papa's gone and mama too
This life has been quite cruel to you
But spirit took you from the start
It made you brave and it gave you heart
Brothers and sisters by your side
You worked so hard that the earth took pride
It gave you sage, wild thyme and rue
To earn your keep, to pull you through.

Mary Call, Mary Call
You stand so straight and you stand so tall
Winds will sweep and rivers fall
For the yearning of the young one
Named Mary Call
She's the treasure of the mountains
And the dearest one of all.

When you finally met despair
A kindly man came to your care
He held you in his arms and said
Just dry your eyes and rest your head
Too tired to argue or protest
You realized you'd done your best
There'll be a place for you somewhere
To tie bright ribbons through your hair.

Mimi Farina
Copyright©1973 Almo Music Corp./Chandos Music

(Words and Music by Joan Baez)

Tell me when you see them
Gathered at the shore
Dancing on their broken chains
Ah, the ladies are no more
In their blue jeans and their necklaces
Against an evening sky
But some of them are weeping
Crying rider, please pass by

The ship with all the riders
Has drifted out to sea
Compass cracked and stars unnamed
It's lost to history
And the riders in captivity
Watch ancient waves roll high
And hear the distant voices
Crying rider, please pass by

All you men who should have been
Your fathers beat you down
Your mothers loved you badly
Your teachers stole your crowns
And the wars you fought have taken toll
The price was far too high
You've buried all the images
Of riders passing by

The horses of the riders
Have waited at the tide
But years have passed, they know at last
Their heroes will not ride
So the women oh so gracefully
Mount noble horses high
Shattering the timelessness
Of rider, please pass by

But who can dare to judge us
The women or the men?
If freedom's wings shall not be clipped
We all can love again
So the choice is not of etiquette
Or finding lonesome ways to die
But liberty to ships at sea
And riders passing by

But liberty to ships at sea
And riders passing by

© 1973 Chandos Music (ASCAP)

We may not always be the best of lovers
But if you leave it to me I think I can see
We'll always be the best of friends

And one day when I am old and on the porch
With knittings around my knees you hear me say
Excuse me please,but aren't you the one
And wasn't it fun way back when

Or maybe in a year you'll reappear
And if that should come true
I'd throw my arms around you and watch you smile
Just for awhile once again

We may not be the best of lovers
But if you leave it to me I think I can see
We'll always be the best of friends

La la la
The best of friends
La la la

[No lyrics]

(Words and Music by Joan Baez)

It's walking to the battleground that always makes me cry
I've met so few folks in my time who weren't afraid to die
But dawn bleeds with the people here and morning skies are red
As young girls load up bicycles with flowers for the dead

An aging woman picks along the craters and the rubble
A piece of cloth, a bit of shoe, a whole lifetime of trouble
A sobbing chant comes from her throat and splits the morning air
The single son she had last night is buried under her

They say that the war is done
Where are you now, my son?

An old man with unsteady gait and beard of ancient white
Bent to the ground with arms outstretched faltering in his plight
I took his hand to steady him, he stood and did not turn
But smiled and wept and bowed and mumbled softly, "Danke shoen"

The children on the roadsides of the villages and towns
Would stand around us laughing as we stood like giant clowns
The mourning bands told whom they'd lost by last night's phantom messenger
And they spoke their only words in English, "Johnson, Nixon, Kissinger"

Now that the war's being won
Where are you now, my son?

The siren gives a running break to those who live in town
Take the children and the blankets to the concrete underground
Sometimes we'd sing and joke and paint bright pictures on the wall
And wonder if we would die well and if we'd loved at all

The helmetless defiant ones sit on the curb and stare
At tracers flashing through the sky and planes bursting in air
But way out in the villages no warning comes before a blast
That means a sleeping child will never make it to the door

The days of our youth were fun
Where are you now, my son?

From the distant cabins in the sky where no man hears the sound
Of death on earth from his own bombs, six pilots were shot down
Next day six hulking bandaged men were dazzled by a room
Of newsmen. Sally keep the faith, let's hope this war ends soon

In a damaged prison camp where they no longer had command
They shook their heads, what irony, we thought peace was at hand
The preacher read a Christmas prayer and the men kneeled on the ground
Then sheepishly asked me to sing "They Drove Old Dixie Down"

Yours was the righteous gun
Where are you now, my son?

We gathered in the lobby celebrating Chrismas Eve
The French, the Poles, the Indians, Cubans and Vietnamese
The tiny tree our host had fixed sweetened familiar psalms
But the most sacred of Christmas prayers was shattered by the bombs

So back into the shelter where two lovely women rose
And with a brilliance and a fierceness and a gentleness which froze
The rest of us to silence as their voices soared with joy
Outshining every bomb that fell that night upon Hanoi

With bravery we have sun
But where are you now, my son?

Oh people of the shelters what a gift you've given me
To smile at me and quietly let me share your agony
And I can only bow in utter humbleness and ask
Forgiveness and forgiveness for the things we've brought to pass

The black pyjama'd culture that we tried to kill with pellet holes
And rows of tiny coffins we've paid for with our souls
Have built a spirit seldom seen in women and in men
And the white flower of Bac Mai will surely blossom once again

I've heard that the war is done
Then where are you now, my son?

© 1973 Chandos Music (ASCAP)