come gather round me, hear my sad story I know you think you've heard some one sing it before me but it's an old song, I had to change it times ain't what they used to be as I went walking that super highway below the gray haze and sooted skyway I was arrested for hitch hiking on the freeway they said it don't belong to me it ain't my land and it ain't your land could be a rich land but it's a poor land 'cause of the few that hold it in their tight-gripped hand so that it don't belong to you or me
when I was younger and in my schooling I learned and followed by all the rulings I never dreamed that they were only fooling how could my teachers lie to me ? but as time passed and I grew older and the world around me got a little colder I heard a voice came calling at my shoulder said it don't belong to you or me it ain't my land and it ain't your land could be a rich land but it's a poor land 'cause of the few that hold it in their tight-gripped hand so that it don't belong to you or me
from the board rooms of corporations to the back roads of desperate situations it's a confused and dis-united nation all the way from sea to shining sea from the urban war zones of the busted street lights to the toxic waste lands of Nevada Test Sites from the open strip mines to the clear cut forests oh it's a sad sight to see I see the downsize, I see the layoffs the corporate welfare, politician's payoffs I see the breadlines that never make the headlines 'cause they're no so entertaining on TV when they can reduce you to just a number when they can knock you down and they can plow you under and when the only thing that matters is the dollar then you know it don't belong to you or me
it ain't my land and it ain't your land could be a rich land but it's a poor land 'cause of the few that hold it in their tight-gripped hand so that it don't belong to you or me
there was a time when this song was greater but that was then, and this is later and there's a hole in my heart that's like a crater and they say it's gonna be the death of me let's take this song back, let's take this country take back our future, it's our duty let's stand up tall so that everyone can see then this land will belong to you and me and it will be your land and it will be my land from California to the New York Island from the redwood forests to the gulf stream waters this land will belong to you and me
Había una vez un hombre muy querido de su pueblo porque contaba historias. Todas las mañanas salía del pueblo y, cuando volvía por las noches, todos los trabajadores del pueblo, tras haber bregado todo el día, se reunían a su alrededor y le decían:
-Vamos, cuenta, ¿qué has visto hoy?
-He visto en el bosque a un fauno que tenía la flauta y que obligaba a danzar a un corro de silvanos.
-Sigue contando, ¿qué más has visto? -decían los hombres.
-Al llegar a la orilla del mar he visto, al filo de las olas, a tres sirenas que peinaban sus verdes cabellos con un peine de oro.
Y los hombres lo apreciaban porque les contaba historias.
Una mañana dejó su pueblo, como todas las mañanas… Mas al llegar a la orilla del mar, he aquí que vio a tres sirenas, tres sirenas que, al filo de las olas, peinaban sus cabellos verdes con un peine de oro. Y, como continuara su paseo, en llegando cerca del bosque, vio a un fauno que tañía la flauta y a un corro de silvanos… Aquella noche, cuando regresó a su pueblo y, como los otros días, le preguntaron: