Category Archives: CAM jukebox

Women and the Draft

Episode 41: Women and the Draft

Don’t miss this episode of the CAM podcast with lots of good information on what is going on with women and military conscription.

You can go here to send a quick letter to your representative.

Finally, a new song by our friend, co-author of The Martyrdom of Thomas Merton, Dave Martin!

Mama, Don’t Let Your Daughters Grow Up to Be Soldiers

For all the fathers

So, great news. It looks like we’re getting very close to requiring young women to register for the draft. Ah, the apex of feminism! Finally, we’ll have real equality: Men and women will both have an equal opportunity to become slaves, forced to go kill and die for the state.

I’ve been feeling inspired by David Martin (co-author of The Martyrdom of Thomas Merton — see episode 31 of the podcast), who writes excellent parodies. I think there is a parody that could be written about this: It would be called: “Daddy’s, Don’t Let Your Daughters Grow Up to Be Draftees” to the tune of the ol’ Waylon Jennings song, of course. But the problem is, I have limited creative juices right now, what with my 9-to-5 and the podcast. David says he does too.

Maybe we can collaborate, all of us.

Here’s a couple of lines I came up with…

Draftees are easy to love but they’re harder to hold
They’d rather live their own life than do what they’re told…

And another…

Daddy’s’ don’t let your daughters grow up to be draftees
Don’t let ’em pick up guns and drive Army trucks
Let ’em be healers and mothers and such…


Here’s all the lyrics. Comment if you come up with something!

Cowboys ain’t easy to love and they’re harder to hold
They’d rather give you a song then diamonds or gold
Lonestar belt buckles and old faded Levi’s and each night begins a new day
If you don’t understand him and he don’t die young
He’ll probably just ride away

Mamas’ don’t let your babies grow up to be cowboys
Don’t let ’em pick guitars or drive them old trucks
Let ’em be doctors and lawyers and such
Mamas’ don’t let your babies grow up to be cowboys
‘Cause they’ll never stay home and they’re always alone
Even with someone they loveCowboys like smokey old pool rooms and clear mountain mornin’s
Little warm puppies and children and girls of the night
Them that don’t know him won’t like him
And them that do sometimes won’t know how to take him
He ain’t wrong he’s just different
But his pride won’t let him do things to make you think he’s rightMama don’t let your babies grow up to be cowboys
Don’t let ’em pick guitars and drive them old trucks
Let ’em be doctors and lawyers and such
Mama don’t let your babies grow up to be cowboys
‘Cause they’ll never stay home and they’re always alone
Even with someone they loveMamas’ don’t let your babies grow up to be cowboys
Don’t let ’em pick guitars and drive them old trucks
Let ’em be doctors and lawyers and such

Might as well face it…

https://www.bitchute.com/video/g94YpS1D3bTp/

Song parody derived from Robert Palmer’s “Addicted To Love”.
Written by DC Dave. 
https://dcdave.heresycentral.is/2019/12/31/addicted-to-war/
Singing/video by BuelahMan

Addicted to War

The vote is done; we thought we won,
But our land is not our own.
We want peace with Putin’s bear,
But Trump’s words were just air.

We want out of the Middle East,
But have a look, we’re in deep.
Relations worsened with Iran
And we’re still in Afghanistan.

Whoa, we like to think that we hate blood and gore, oh yeah.
It’s closer to the truth to say it’s what our leaders are for.
You know we’re gonna have to face it, we’re addicted to war.

We said Assad attacked with gas.
We couldn’t give him a pass.
So what the charge was just a lie.
Drop more bombs; more people die; we wonder why.

Can we be saved?
Domination is all they crave.
If you know what to do
Please tell it to me, too.

Whoa, we like to think that we hate blood and gore, oh yeah.
It’s closer to the truth to say it’s what our leaders are for.
You know we’re gonna have to face it, we’re addicted to war.

Might as well face it, they’re addicted to war.
Might as well face it, they’re addicted to war.
Might as well face it, they’re addicted to war.
Might as well face it, they’re addicted to war.
Might as well face it, they’re addicted to war.

The Soviets gave up the ghost,
Cold War victory was our boast,
And did NATO then disband?
No, in fact, it would expand.

Whoa, we like to think that we hate blood and gore, oh yeah.
It’s closer to the truth to say it’s what our leaders are for.
You know we’re gonna have to face it, they’re addicted to war.

Might as well face it, they’re addicted to war.
Might as well face it, they’re addicted to war.
Might as well face it, they’re addicted to war.
Might as well face it, they’re addicted to war.
Might as well face it, they’re addicted to war.
Might as well face it, they’re addicted to war.
Might as well face it, they’re addicted to war.
Might as well face it, they’re addicted to war.
Might as well face it,
Might as well face it, they’re addicted to war.
Might as well face it, might as well face it,
Might as well face it. 

*Fair use for political commentary and parody.
All the videos, songs, images, and graphics used in the video belong to their respective owners and I or this channel does not claim any right over them.

Copyright Disclaimer under section 107 of the Copyright Act of 1976, allowance is made for “fair use” for purposes such as criticism, comment, news reporting, teaching, scholarship, education and research. Fair use is a use permitted by copyright statute that might otherwise be infringing.

Buy a Gun for Your Son

 

Buy a Gun for Your Son

Words and Music by Tom Paxton

Hallelujah, Dads and Mommies,
Cowboys, Rebels, Yanks and Commies
Buy yourselves some real red blooded fun.
If you want to make the grade,
You’ve got to have a hand grenade,
And a fully automatic G.I. Gun.

[Cho:]
Buy a gun for your son right away, Sir
Shake his hand like a man and let him play, Sir.
Let his little mind expand, Place a weapon in his hand,
For the skills he learns today will someday pay, Sir.

Pound that kid into submission
‘Till he’s mastered Nuclear Fission
Buy him plastic warheads by the score,
Once he’s got the taste of blood,
He’s gonna sneak up on his buddies
Starting his own thermo-nuclear war.

[Cho.]

Buy him khakis and fatigues,
And sign him up in little leagues,
Give him calisthenics as a rule.
Once you’ve banished fear and dread,
Then pat his seven year-old head,
And send him off to military school.

[Cho]

Once he’s grown to be a man,
He might get tired of blasting Granny,
Then you’ll see a crisis coming on.
Don’t get worried, don’t get nervous.
Send that kid into the service,
Let him rise into the Pentagon.

[Cho]

At the Pentagon he’ll rise.
The President he will advise,
His reputation growing all the while.
With his picture on the wall,
He’ll get that long-awaited call,
And press the firing buttons with a smile.

[Cho]

Be Thou My Vision

Be Thou my vision, oh Lord of my heart
Nought be all else to me, save that Thy art
Thou my best thought in the day and the night
Waking or sleeping, Thou presence my light

Be Thou my wisdom, be Thou my true word
I ever with Thee and Thou with me Lord
Thou my great Father and I Thy true son
Thou in me dwelling and I with Thee one

Be Thou my breastplate, my sword for the fight
Be Thou my armour and be Thou my might
Thou my soul shelter, and Thy my high tower
Raise Thou me heavenwards, oh power of my power

Riches I need not, nor man’s empty praise
Thou mine inheritance through all of my days
Thou and Thou only though first in my heart
High king of heaven my treasure Thou art

Oh high king of heaven, when battle is done
Grant heaven’s joy to me, bright heaven sun
Christ of my own heart, whatever befall
Still be my vision, though ruler of all