Feel-Like-I'm-Fixin-To-Die Rag (version), and a Mencken Follow-up

Country Joe & The Fish was one of the many bands to perform at Woodstock, in 1969. I was twelve years-old when I got the Woodstock triple album and first heard them sing their "Feel-Like-I'm-Fixin-To-Die Rag."

I have taken liberties with the lyrics to bring them up-to-date.

Do you have an MP3 of "Feel-Like-I'm-Fixin-To-Die Rag"? I would love to have a copy of it!

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Feel-Like-I'm-Fixin-To-Die Rag (version)
Original Words and Music by Joe McDonald

Now come on all of you big strong men,
Uncle Sam needs your help again.
He's got himself in a terrible jam
Way down yonder in a desert land
So put down your books and pick up a gun,
We're gonna have a whole lotta fun.

And it's one, two, three,
What are we fighting for?
Don't ask me, I don't give a damn,
Next stop is a desert land;
And it's five, six, seven,
Open up the pearly gates,
Well there ain't no time to wonder why,
Whoopee! we're all gonna die.

Well, come on generals, let's move fast;
Your big chance is here at last.
Gotta go out and kill ragheads —
'Cause the only good muslim is the one who's dead
And you know that peace can only be won
When we've blown 'em all to kingdom come.

And it's one, two, three,
What are we fighting for?
Don't ask me, I don't give a damn,
Next stop is a desert land;
And it's five, six, seven,
Open up the pearly gates,
Well there ain't no time to wonder why,
Whoopee! we're all gonna die.

Well come on Halliburton don't move slow,
My man this is war-a-go-go.
There's plenty good money to be made
Supplying the Army with the tools of the trade,
Let's hope and pray that they drop the bomb,
And blow 'em all to kingdom come.

And it's one, two, three,
What are we fighting for?
Don't ask me, I don't give a damn,
Next stop is a desert land;
And it's five, six, seven,
Open up the pearly gates,
Well there ain't no time to wonder why,
Whoopee! we're all gonna die.

Well, come on mothers throughout the land,
Pack your boys off to a desert land.
Come on fathers, don't hesitate,
Send your sons off before it's too late.
Be the first one on your block
To have your boy come home in a box.

And it's one, two, three,
What are we fighting for?
Don't ask me, I don't give a damn,
Next stop is a desert land;
And it's five, six, seven,
Open up the pearly gates,
Well there ain't no time to wonder why,
Whoopee! we're all gonna die.

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Peace.

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My dear friend, Celia wrote to me this morning:

I was looking at your blog -- here is the entire Mencken quote, which makes it even more interesting:

(From a www.snopes.com article verifying that the currently circulating quote is indeed Mencken:)

Writing for the Baltimore Evening Sun on 26 July 1920, in an article entitled "Bayard vs. Lionheart" (and reprinted in the book On Politics: A Carnival of Buncombe), Mencken opined cynically on the difficulties of good men reaching national office when such campaigns must necessarily be conducted remotely:

"The larger the mob, the harder the test. In small areas, before small electorates, a first-rate man occasionally fights his way through, carrying even the mob with him by force of his personality. But when the field is nationwide, and the fight must be waged chiefly at second and third hand, and the force of personality cannot so readily make itself felt, then all the odds are on the man who is, intrinsically, the most devious and mediocre -- the man who can most easily adeptly disperse the notion that his mind is a virtual vacuum.

The Presidency tends, year by year, to go to such men. As democracy is perfected, the office represents, more and more closely, the inner soul of the people. We move toward a lofty ideal. On some great and glorious day the plain folks of the land will reach their heart's desire at last, and the White House will be adorned by a downright moron."

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Thanks Celia.