Went on down to Central with a twenty in my hand,
Looking for a woman who's looking for a man.
Went on down to Central with a twenty in my hand,
Looking for a woman who's looking for a man.

Get yourself one woman, you know you best get two,
One for your lead man, another one for you.
Get yourself one woman, you know you best get two,
One for your lead man, another one for you.

I used to love this woman, she lived in my home.
After three years of marriage, a poor boy sure can feel alone.
I used to love this woman, she lived in my home.
After three years of marriage, a poor boy sure can feel alone.

I went on down to the White House, gazed on the Capitol dome,
Prayed to God above, but that woman won=t come home.
I went on down to the White House, gazed on the Capitol dome,
Prayed to God above, but that woman won't come home.

Went on down to the gypsy to have my fortune read.
Went on down to the gypsy to have my fortune read.
"If you wanta sing these blues, you gotta be a hard luck man," she said.

We said maybe Monday, or Wednesday perhaps
Then we showed up Tuesday -- well, that was where it was at.
You said that we missed it, a day more or less
So we kicked back and smiled and said give it a rest.
Hippy time. Hippy time. Hippy time.

I'll be back in an hour I told them a five
About seven-thirty I finally arrived
But nobody got tense, nobody was sore
Cause they'd been on hippy time since their feet hit the floor.
Hippy time. Hippy time. Hippy time.

If the words that I'm saying don't make any sense
Just think of a clock as a kind of a fence
Cutting off pieces of the life you would lead
If you want your freedom try singing with me:
Hippy time. Hippy time. Hippy time.

If you've got a minute I could tell you some more
She said come on in so I passed thru her door
Late the next morning when she opened her eyes
Said "That was a hell of a minute" I said "Are you really surprised."
Hippy time. Hippy time. Hippy time.

Cabin said Thom "Let's go for a walk"
Its such a nice day, maybe go for a walk
So we strolled across Central and we rolled up some smoke
And for a couple of hours we just swapped songs and toked.
Hippy time. Hippy time. Hippy time.

My age is ten years. I wear raggedy pants.
And I beg from the soldiers, when I get the chance.
My mother is living in a house in the town.
But my daddy lives in a hole in the ground.

The soldiers are friendly. The soldiers are fun.
I play with the soldiers. I field strip their guns.
I tell them I live with my mother in town,
But my daddy lives in a hole in the ground.

The soldiers are nice men, yes they are my friends.
And they feed me candy without any end.
They say they are new here. Could I show them around?
Could I show them where my daddy lives in the hole in the ground?

I show all the soldiers what they want to see.
Because they are good men and so nice to me.
That night there's a booming from outside of town.
From near where my daddy lives in the hole in the ground.

The next day I go to visit my daddy.
I walk and I look all across the rice paddies.
But I can't find my daddy. There's no one around.
And I can't find the hole where he lived in the ground.

But I've still got my soldiers to visit today.
But they don't want to see me. They all turn away.
Some faces are sad and some wear a frown,
As I speak of my daddy in the hole in the ground.

(Printed in Broadside Magazine #56, March 10, 1965)

I was taught that in the House of God
You folded your hands in prayer.
Two or three would gather together
To ask for forgiveness of sins.
There might be singing. There might be preaching,
Though your book might be different from mine.
I always thought that the church was meant for praying.

Some folks were taught that in the House of God
You listen but you do not hear.
Ten or twenty will gather together
To make a council of war.
And they burn their crosses and use their rifles
And throw their dynamite thru the door.
Some people think that the church was meant for burning.

Now they've taught me that the House of God
Is built in the hearts of men.
All of us must stand and be counted
Or our souls will wither and die.
And there may be murder. They'll sure be trying.
But if there weren't fear, why bother to stand.
Now we know that the church was meant for building.

I met this little girl when we were in school.
She was always laughing at me, she'd treat me like a fool.
She bet I wouldn't kiss her, said that I wouldn't dare,
But, when I reached for her, she wasn't even there.

I said, how can I kiss you if you won't stand still?
I could try to run you down but that's not my thrill.
If you won't kiss me, I know your sister will.
How can I kiss you if you won't stand still?

Later on we dated. One night we parked.
We decided to take a little stroll in the dark.
She turned to face me. I puckered up and then
She started running round like a headless hen.

I said, how can I kiss you....

I finally asked that woman to be my wife.
To settle down with me for the rest of my life.
The minister said "You may kiss the bride."
But she started leaping from side to side.

I said, how can I kiss you....

Hudson's name was Henry but the river is a john.
You once could see the sandy bed the water rested on.
But now the waste from factories and sewers flows along.
Hudson's name was Henry but the river is a john.

When Henry Hudson sailed his ship up past the Palisades,
His men could see the flounders on the bottom where they played.
But the white man brought his industry and time has flowed along.
Hudson's name was Henry but the river is a john.

Chorus.

We go into the bathroom and we leave a healthy load.
Then we pull the handle flushing out the old commode.
For, thanks to Sir John Harrington, our waste is washed away,
Down the mighty Hudson, out to the ocean's spray.

Chorus.

Producing electricity, paper, glass and such,
We make hot water, poisons, sludge and all that nasty stuff.
But since control costs money and doesn't seem to make us more,
We run our waste into the stream that flows by our back door.

Chorus.