Woody Guthrie, người nghệ sĩ bình dân vĩ đại

This Land Is Your Land
Chào các bạn,

Có lẽ trong thế kỷ 20, ca sĩ-nhạc sĩ đặt nền móng và để lại ảnh hướng lớn nhất cho dòng nhạc folks của Mỹ là Woody Guthrie. Ông để lại cho nền âm nhạc Mỹ hàng trăm bài hát nhạc folks,nhạc chính trị, nhạc truyền thống và những bài hát trẻ em.

Woody Guthrie
Woody Guthrie
Khán giả Việt Nam sẽ  thấy ông thật gần gũi, bởi ông sáng tác rất nhiều bài bài  hát về những người lao động khổ cực, sự nỗ lực của họ, và bảo vệ quyền lợi cho họ. Ông hát về ao ước tự do. Ông cũng gắn bó với những nhóm cộng sản của Mỹ thời đầu thế kỉ 20.

Bài hát nổi tiếng nhất của ông là “This Land is Your Land” được hát thường xuyên ở các  trong các trường học của Mỹ. Bài hát nhắc nhủ rằng “mảnh đất này là của bạn, mảnh đất này là của tôi”, “chứ không phải mảnh đất này của bankers, politicians, billianaires, vua dầu hỏa hay những tập đoàn” như lời ca sĩ Night Watch Man hát và phản đối ở Newport Folk Festival năm 2007.

Woody Guthrie đi lang thang khắp các miền đất của Mỹ, từ bang này sang bang khác hát và sáng tác, từ Oklahoma tới California. Ông đi rất nhiều, chỉ một ba lô, cái mũ và cây ghita. Hồi mình ở Vermont mình cũng gặp một ông già hát rong tầm trên 50 tuổi, ông hát ở Vermont khoảng mấy tháng rồi sang bang khác biểu diễn tiếp. Giới hát rong và những người đi phố vẫn gọi ông già đó là “the Woodie Guthrie guy” 🙂

Ông có tất cả tám người con, trong đó có nhạc sĩ Arlo Guthrie đi theo sự nghiệp sáng tác-ca hát và phong cách mang ảnh hưởng nhiều của cha Woody. Những năm cuối đời, tuy ông mắc chứng rối loạn  thần kinh, ông vẫn giữ vị trí đầu tầu trong phong trào nhạc folks và truyền cảm hứng cho một thế hệ những nhạc sĩ nhạc folks mới lúc đó, bao gồm cả viện kèm cặp giúp Ramblin’ Jack Elliott và Bob Dylan trưởng thành.

Vào năm 1997, Woody Guthrie được đưa vào Oklahoma Music Hall of Fame. Các bạn có thế đọc thêm về ông tại trang Wikipedia về Woodie Guthrie.

Sau đây, mình giới thiệu với các bạn một số sáng tác nổi tiếng của ông.

Chúc các bạn một ngày Woody Guthrie 🙂

Hiển.
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Woody Guthrie, This land is your land!

This Land Is Your Land

This land is your land This land is my land
From California to the New York island;
From the red wood forest to the Gulf Stream waters
This land was made for you and Me.

As I was walking that ribbon of highway,
I saw above me that endless skyway:
I saw below me that golden valley:
This land was made for you and me.

I’ve roamed and rambled and I followed my footsteps
To the sparkling sands of her diamond deserts;
And all around me a voice was sounding:
This land was made for you and me.

When the sun came shining, and I was strolling,
And the wheat fields waving and the dust clouds rolling,
As the fog was lifting a voice was chanting:
This land was made for you and me.

As I went walking I saw a sign there
And on the sign it said “No Trespassing.”
But on the other side it didn’t say nothing,
That side was made for you and me.

In the shadow of the steeple I saw my people,
By the relief office I seen my people;
As they stood there hungry, I stood there asking
Is this land made for you and me?

Nobody living can ever stop me,
As I go walking that freedom highway;
Nobody living can ever make me turn back
This land was made for you and me..

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Oklahoma Hills

Oklahoma Hills

Many a month has come and gone
Since I’ve wandered from my home
In those Oklahoma hills
Where I was born

Many a page of my life has turned
Many lessons I have learned
And I feel like in those hills
Where I belong

CHORUS:
Way down yonder in the Indian nation
Ridin’ my pony on the reservation
In the Oklahoma hills where I was born

Way down yonder in the Indian nation
A cowboy’s life is my occupation
In the Oklahoma Hills where I was born

But as I sit here today
Many mile’s I am away
From the place I rode my pony
Through the draw

Where the oak and black-jack trees
Kiss the playful prairie breeze
And I feel back in those hills
Where I belong

CHORUS

Now as I turn life a page
To the land of the great Osage
In those Oklahoma hills
Where I was born

Where the black oil rolls and flows
And the snow white cotton grows
And I feel like in those hills
Where I belong

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Take fishing home

Take fishing home

I went down to the fishing hole,
And I set down with my fishing pole;
Somethin’ grabb’d my hook and it got my bait
And Jerked me out in the middle of the lake.
Huh it was some jump boy,
I got sunk, kinda baptized on credit.

Fishin’ down on th’ muddy bank,
Felt a pull an’ give a big yank,
I drug out three old rubber boots,
A Ford radiator an’ a Chevrolet coop
(Nothin’ but Junk, so I handed it in
For National Defence).

Settin’ in a boat with a bucket of beer,
Hadn’t caught nuthin’ but didn’t much care,
I guess I was pretty well satisfied,
Had my little woman right by my side
(Takin’ it easy, just waitin’
Worm been gone off-a that hook for a couple of hours.
I was busy).

When you go fishin’, tell y’ what to do,
Go set down by the grassy dew,
Take a piece of string, tie it on yo’ pole,
Throw it way out in th’ middle of th’ hole.
Find you a good shady tree and then just set down.
(Go to sleep, forget all about it
Can’t catch nuthin’ here anyways.)

Well I walked out to a sandy bar,
And I caught myself a big alligator gar,
Drug him home across my back,
Tail was dragging a mile and a half,
Flippin’ an’ floppin’. I sold him for a quarter.
(Shot craps, got in Jall.)

Jumped in the river and went down deep,
There was a hundred pound cat-fish lying there asleep,
Well I jumped on his back and rode him all aroun’
Saddled him up and I came into town.
People came runnin’, lookin’, dogs a-barkin’
(Kids a-squallin’).

Early one mornin’ I took me a notion,
To go out fishin’ in the middle of the ocean,
Well, throwed me a line, I got me a shark,
I didn’t get him home till way past dark.
(Was he a man-eater, tough customer.
But he wasn’t quite tough enough.)

Late last night I had me a dream,
I was out fishin’ in a whiskey stream,
Baited my hook with apple-jack,
Threw out a drink, drug a gallon back.
(Done pretty good till the creek run dry.
I give the fish back to the finance company.)

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Talking Dust Bowl Blues

Talking Dust Bowl Blues

Back in Nineteen Twenty-Seven,
I had a little farm and I called that heaven.
Well, the prices up and the rain come down,
And I hauled my crops all into town —
I got the money, bought clothes and groceries,
Fed the kids, and raised a family.

Rain quit and the wind got high,
And the black ol’ dust storm filled the sky.
And I swapped my farm for a Ford machine,
And I poured it full of this gas-i-line —
And I started, rockin’ an’ a-rollin’,
Over the mountains, out towards the old Peach Bowl.

Way up yonder on a mountain road,
I had a hot motor and a heavy load,
I’s a-goin’ pretty fast, there wasn’t even stoppin’,
A-bouncin’ up and down, like popcorn poppin’ —
Had a breakdown, sort of a nervous bustdown of some kind,
There was a feller there, a mechanic feller,
Said it was en-gine trouble.

Way up yonder on a mountain curve,
It’s way up yonder in the piney wood,
An’ I give that rollin’ Ford a shove,
An’ I’s a-gonna coast as far as I could —
Commence coastin’, pickin’ up speed,
Was a hairpin turn, I didn’t make it.

Man alive, I’m a-tellin’ you,
The fiddles and the guitars really flew.
That Ford took off like a flying squirrel
An’ it flew halfway around the world —
Scattered wives and childrens
All over the side of that mountain.

We got out to the West Coast broke,
So dad-gum hungry I thought I’d croak,
An’ I bummed up a spud or two,
An’ my wife fixed up a tater stew —
We poured the kids full of it,
Mighty thin stew, though,
You could read a magazine right through it.
Always have figured
That if it’d been just a little bit thinner,
Some of these here politicians
Coulda seen through it.

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I Ain’t Got No Home

I ain’t got no home, I’m just a-roamin’ ’round,
Just a wandrin’ worker, I go from town to town.
And the police make it hard wherever I may go
And I ain’t got no home in this world anymore.

My brothers and my sisters are stranded on this road,
A hot and dusty road that a million feet have trod;
Rich man took my home and drove me from my door
And I ain’t got no home in this world anymore.

Was a-farmin’ on the shares, and always I was poor;
My crops I lay into the banker’s store.
My wife took down and died upon the cabin floor,
And I ain’t got no home in this world anymore.

I mined in your mines and I gathered in your corn
I been working, mister, since the day I was born
Now I worry all the time like I never did before
‘Cause I ain’t got no home in this world anymore

Now as I look around, it’s mighty plain to see
This world is such a great and a funny place to be;
Oh, the gamblin’ man is rich an’ the workin’ man is poor,
And I ain’t got no home in this world anymore.

.

Aginst Th’ Law

It´s aginst th´ law to walk, It´s aginst th´ law to talk
It´s against th´ law to loaf, It´s aginst th´ law to work
It´s aginst th´ law to read, It´s aginst th´ law to write
It´s aginst th´ law to be a black or brown or white.

Ever´thing’s aginst th´ law
I´m a low pay daddy singing th´ high price blues

It´s aginst th´ law to eat, It´s aginst th´ law to drink
It´s aginst th´ law to worry, It´s aginst th´ law to think
It´s aginst th´ law to marry or to try to settle down
It´s aginst th´ law to ramble like a bum from town to town

Ever´thing’s aginst th´ law
I´m a low pay daddy singing th´ high price blues

It´s aginst th´ law to come, It´s against th´ law to go
It´s against th´ law to ride, It´s against th´ law to roll
It´s aginst th´ law to hug, It´s against th´ law to kiss
It´s against th´ law to shoot, It´s against th´ law to miss

Ever´thing’s aginst th´ law
I´m a low pay daddy singing th´ high price blues

It´s aginst th´ law to gamble, It´s aginst th´ law to roam
It´s aginst th´ law to organize or try to build a home
It´s aginst th´ law to sing, It´s aginst th´ law to dance
It´s aginst th´ law to tell you th´ trouble on my hands

Ever’thing in Winston Salem is aginst th’ law
I’ma low pay daddy singin’ th’ high price blues.

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Who’s Going To Shoe Your Pretty Little Feet

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Who’s Going To Shoe Your Pretty Little Feet

 Who’s gonna shoe your pretty little feet?
Who’s gonna glove your hand?
Who’s gonna kiss your red ruby lips?
Who’s gonna be your man?

Papa’s gonna shoe my pretty little feetl,
Mama’s gonna glove my hand,
Sister’s gonna kiss my red ruby lips,
I don’t need no man.

I don’t need no man,
I don’t need no man,
Sister’s gonna kiss my red ruby lips,
I don’t need no man.

The fastest train I ever did ride,
Was a hundred coaches long,
And the only woman I ever did love,
Was on that train and gone.

On that train and gone, boys,
On that train and gone,
The only woman I ever did love,
On that train and gone.

Who’s gonna shoe your pretty little feet?
Who’s gonna glove your hand?
Who’s gonna kiss your red ruby lips?
Who’s gonna be your man?

Papa’s gonna shoe my pretty little feetl,
Mama’s gonna glove my hand,
Sister’s gonna kiss my red ruby lips,
I don’t need no man.

I don’t need no man,
I don’t need no man,
Sister’s gonna kiss my red ruby lips,
I don’t need no man.

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Pastures Of Plenty

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Pastures Of Plenty

It’s a mighty hard row that my poor hands have hoed
My poor feet have traveled a hot dusty road
Out of your Dust Bowl and Westward we rolled
And your deserts were hot and your mountains were cold

I worked in your orchards of peaches and prunes
I slept on the ground in the light of the moon
On the edge of the city you’ll see us and then
We come with the dust and we go with the wind

California, Arizona, I harvest your crops
Well its North up to Oregon to gather your hops
Dig the beets from your ground, cut the grapes from your vine
To set on your table your light sparkling wine

Green pastures of plenty from dry desert ground
From the Grand Coulee Dam where the waters run down
Every state in the Union us migrants have been
We’ll work in this fight and we’ll fight till we win

It’s always we rambled, that river and I
All along your green valley, I will work till I die
My land I’ll defend with my life if it be

Cause my pastures of plenty must always be free

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1913 Massacre

Take a trip with me in nineteen thirteen
To Calumet, Michigan in the copper country
I’ll take you to a place called Italian Hall
And the miners are having their big Christmas ball

I’ll take you in a door and up a high stairs
Singing and dancing is heard ev’rywhere
I’ll let you shake hands with the people you see
And watch the kids dance ’round the big Christmas tree.

There’s talking and laughing and songs in the air
And the spirit of Christmas is there ev’rywhere
Before you know it you’re friends with us all
And you’re dancing around and around in the hall

You ask about work and you ask about pay
They’ll tell you they make less than a dollar a day
Working their copper claims, risking their lives
So it’s fun to spend Christmas with children and wives.

A little girl sits down by the Christmas tree lights
To play the piano so you gotta keep quiet
To hear all this fun; you would not realize
That the copper boss thug men are milling outside

The copper boss thugs stuck their heads in the door
One of them yelled and he screamed, “There’s a fire”
A lady she hollered, “There’s no such a thing;
Keep on with your party, there’s no such a thing.”

A few people rushed and there’s only a few
“It’s just the thugs and the scabs fooling you.”
A man grabbed his daughter and he carried her down
But the thugs held the door and he could not get out.

And then others followed, about a hundred or more
But most everybody remained on the floor
The gun thugs, they laughed at their murderous joke
And the children were smothered on the stairs by the door.

Such a terrible sight I never did see
We carried our children back up to their tree
The scabs outside still laughed at their spree
And the children that died there was seventy-three

The piano played a slow funeral tune,
And the town was lit up by a cold Christmas moon
The parents, they cried and the men, they moaned,
“See what your greed for money has done?”

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Hard travelin’

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Hard Travelin’

I’ve been havin’ some hard travelin’, I thought you knowed
I’ve been havin’ some hard travelin’, way down the road
I’ve been havin’ some hard travelin’, hard ramblin’, hard gamblin’
I’ve been havin’ some hard travelin’, lord

I’ve been ridin’ them fast rattlers, I thought you knowed
I’ve been ridin’ them flat wheelers, way down the road
I’ve been ridin’ them blind passengers, dead-enders, kickin’ up cinders
I’ve been havin’ some hard travelin’, lord

I’ve been hittin’ some hard-rock minin’, I thought you knowed
I’ve been leanin’ on a pressure drill, way down the road
Hammer flyin’, air-hose suckin’, six foot of mud and I shore been a muckin’
And I’ve been hittin’ some hard travelin’, lord

I’ve been hittin’ some hard harvestin’, I thought you knowed
North Dakota to Kansas City, way down the road
Cuttin’ that wheat, stackin’ that hay, and I’m tryin’ make about a dollar a day
And I’ve been havin’ some hard travelin’, lord

I’ve been working that Pittsburgh steel, I thought you knowed
I’ve been a dumpin’ that red-hot slag, way down the road
I’ve been a blasting, I’ve been a firin’, I’ve been a pourin’ red-hot iron
I’ve been hittin’ some hard travelin’, lord

I’ve been layin’ in a hard-rock jail, I thought you knowed
I’ve been a laying out 90 days, way down the road
Damned old judge, he said to me, “It’s 90 days for vagrancy.”
And I’ve been hittin’ some hard travelin’, lord

I’ve been walking that Lincoln highway, I thought you knowed,
I’ve been hittin’ that 66, way down the road
Heavy load and a worried mind, lookin’ for a woman that’s hard to find,

I’ve been hittin’ some hard travelin’, lord.

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