"BAGHDAD ON THE BAYOU"

-- With apologies to Hank Williams' Jambalaya --
(Dedicated to Joe Allbaugh, Jack Abramoff, Halliburton, George Bush, Dick Cheney, Michael Brown, Tom DeLay et al)

1.
Goodbye, Joe, you've gotta go, oh-me-oh-my-oh
And old Jack, you'd best jump back, you felony-oh
No-bid jobs, that's for slobs, someday they'll fry-oh
Oh what a drag, they'll make Baghdad on the bayou.

(chorus:)
Tell me why they have to ply the mumbo-jumbo
Took a big whack at old Iraq and look like dumbos
Gov'mint run by cronies, that you can't deny-oh
Oh what a drag, they'll make Baghdad on the bayou.

2.
The same old stars that lost dinars by the billions
They're hired in haste and they will waste our hard-earned zillions,
And with guile go hog wild, suck us dry-oh
Oh what a drag, they'll make Baghdad on the bayou.

3.
Play guitar, name a czar, and run away-oh
Exercise, reel off some lies and some cliche-oh
Construct a frame, divert the blame to some small fry-oh
Oh what a drag, he'll make Baghdad on the bayou!

THE CITY OF NEW ORLEANS

(With apologies to Arlo Guthrie)

Stranded in the city of New Orleans
Many thousands watch the levees fail
Daring flooded streets to get to safety
Hopes and cries for help do not avail

And on their desperate odyssey the stream of dire humanity
Find shelter fraught with perils so surreal
Their hunger biting, children cry, the poor and old and weak they die
And no one comes to answer their appeal

Good mornin' America, how are you?
Don't you know me? I'm your native sons!
I'm the pain they call the city of New Orleans
I'll be gone 500 miles when the week is done.

Days go by, with all the nation watching
Tens of thousands wretchedly await
But no rescue comes and all the world starts wond’ring
If to die in squalor was their fate

And the president flies overhead and worries ‘bout Trent Lott instead
What does his strange reaction there betray?
And mothers clutch their fevered babes while politicians exchange praise
And promise aid in practiced, smooth clichés.

Good mornin' America, how are you?
Don't you know me? I'm your native sons!
I'm the pain they call the city of New Orleans
I'll be gone 500 miles when the week is done.

Night time in the city of New Orleans
Darkness reigns, dismay is in the air
Thirst and hunger raging, gunshots echo,
Punctuating infinite despair.

And all the domes and people seem to play into macabre dreams
But FEMA says it still ain’t heard the news
The pres makes no apologies, a million more are refugees
A city lost while Dubya took a snooze.

Good night America, how are you?
Don't you know me? I'm your native sons!
I'm the pain they call the city of New Orleans
I'll be gone 500 miles when the week is done.