Protest Songs?

this is Pino Masi's Italian version of Eve of Destruction by Barry McGuire .
The title is "The time of the rifle".
I know that Masi guy. He was always going around singing around my university.
They even shot a movie about him, albeit not exactly a flattering one.



The whole world is exploding
from Angola to Palestine,
Latin America is fighting,
the armed struggle wins in Indochina;
all over the world peoples are gaining consciousness
and in the squares they go down with the right violence.

And therefore: what more do you want, Comrade,
to understand that the time of the rifle has come?


America of the Nixon, Agnew and MacNamara
from the Black Panthers a lesson learns;
people don't like napalm civilization,
as long as there are masters there will never be peace;
the peace of the masters suits the masters,
coexistence is a scam to make us feel good.

And therefore: what more do you need, Comrade,
to see that the time of the rifle has come?

In Spain and Poland
the workers they show that the struggle
has never stopped against united masters, against capitalism,
even if disguised as a false socialism.
The Polish workers who went on strike
they shouted in the procession: Gestapo Police!
They shouted: Gomulka, it's going to end grimly for you!
They marched singing the Internationale.

And so: what more do you want, Comrade,
to understand that it's time for the rifle?

The masses, even in Europe,
no longer stand by,
the fight explodes everywhere
and cannot be stopped:
barricades everywhere: from Burgos to Szczecin,
and here too, from Avola to Turin,
from Orgosolo to Marghera, from Battipaglia to Reggio
the hard struggle advances, the masters will have the worst.

And so: what more do you need, Comrade,
to understand that it's time to pick the rifle?

 

That night in front of the "Bussola"*,
in the cold of New Year's Eve.
That New Year's Eve
we will never forget it.
The gentlemen came,
on their shiny cars
and they looked with contempt
at the workers and students.
The ladies in the long dress,
with fur covered shoulders,
the powerful with the bowtie,
with starched faces.

They were the same gentlemen
that exploit us all year round,
those who make us die
in the factories around here.
They came to toast,
after a year of exploitation,
to toast for the new year,
that suits him even better.
The companions do not resist,
who recognized them,
and tomatoes arrive
and the spitting arrives.

To defend the exploiters,
a trumpet blew,
while already the Carabinieri
they ran and beat;
how beautiful are the Carabinieri,
as they beat with handcuffs
fellow middle students
from fourteen to seventeen!
And they don't stop hitting
until the Colonel lifts his finger:
they are the most faithful image
of our established order.

We already see the Carabinieri
that are being organized
to start the manhunt
with panthers** and armored car.
We can't go away,
nor leave the missing,
we are now cut off
to reach the vehicles.
We decide to resist
and the barricades are made:
they are for better defense
from subsequent waves.

From the first barricade
to the area of the Carabinieri
they are about forty meters
all empty and all black.
When they begin to advance
one of them shoots into the air.
comrades throw stones
to try to stop them.
They stop for a moment
and then continue to advance;
is no longer just one,
many are now shooting.

From the first barricade
the guns are clearly visible,
from the second everyone thinks
that they are only squibs.
We all come together
at the second barricade,
the Carabinieri come back,
given the bad parade.
One more hour of back and forth,
us with stones, they shooting;
we all believe they shoot blanks,
even from inside an armored car.

Suddenly I see falling
a companion to my right
the knee with a hole
and the blood on his trousers.
I turn around and cry out: "It is live fire"!
and I run back a few steps:
two companions carry on shoulders
the wounded in the leg.
Running hard on the road,
with the carabinieri behind him,
I see Ceccanti, shot to death,
carried on the pavement.

Despite efforts to help him,
It is difficult to find help
while the gendarmes run after you
and they don't give you any rest.
Found a utility car
and taken Ceccanti away,
there is nothing left for us to do
than to run away all of them.
Maybe at the Bussola, for that night,
the gentlemen were offended,
they who offend and kill
for all the other twelve months.

It would be better to offend them often
and don't give them breath
as often as their gentlemen
happen to pass under our rifles.
At this point it seems appropriate
do some consideration
on the different and ugly faces
that the capitalist shows us today:
he has the money to buy us,
misery to exploit,
his armed henchmen with him to kill us,
TV to cheat everyone.

We just have to rebel
and not accept the game
of their freedom,
which is worth very little to us.


* A luxurious club
** Police cars

 

Refreshing ! Made me smile. The ones I posted are dark as hell.

 

There is a member of this forum who won't be that pleased - Margaret Thatcher (phth, phth. phth) was his idol - every time she bent down, he'd get sun burn !!!

 

CSNY - Ohio

 

Springsteen - Born in the USA

 

CCR - Run Through the Jungle

 

Buffalo Springfield - For What Its Worth

 

Woody Guthrie - This Land is Your Land

 

The Byrds - Turn Turn Turn

 

Based on what has been posted so far it seems to be wide open...