Panama Rap
It was late last night,
I was watchin TV,
when a terrible sight
I couldn’t help see:
it was troops with the name
America
takin over the land
of Panama.
There was so much bombin
an firin goin on
I thought we was back
in Vietnam,
so I wrote this rap
an I wrote it fast
to say that this thing
aint got no class,
to say to those poor folks
way down there:
“We’re on your side, baby,
hang in there!”
They said they
went there to
stop them drugs
an that was the reason
they picked the Christmas season
for firin them slugs,
but knowin our government’s
track record
in Vietnam, Grenada
(or haven’t you heard?),
I knew I couldn’t
trust their word,
so I thought
about
the truth of the matter,
an what I came up with
made me madder an madder!
If the government wanted
drugs to stop,
they’d give us folks jobs
instead of cops,
they’d give us good pay
an security
instead of all this insanity,
but the rich man owns
the government
an he aint gonna help you
pay your rent,
so you better organize
an organize fast
for a better life
for the working class.
Noriega might be
a big bag of scum,
but is Bush any better?
Am I that dumb?
No!
I know who
called this show!
I can picture
the whole
scenario!
Well, down came the orders,
they came from up high,
from the tip-top of Wall Street
an the corporate sky.
They said, “Hey, Bush!
Get off your tush!
It’s time to get rough,
it’s time to get tough,
it’s time to give Panama
a little push!”
They said, “Invade!”
They said, “Do it now!
Keep the cash flowin
from Panama!”
With these thoughts in mind
I got to feelin drowsy
an I fell asleep
but my sleep was lousy.
I had a dream
but the dream was bad,
about the worst ol dream
I ever had.
In my dream certain people
came up to me
an they sure weren’t folks
that I wanted to see,
an what they said
they never did say
cause these liars never tell
the truth by day,
but in my dream
the truth came out
an that’s what I’m gonna
rap to you about.
First Bush got up
an here is what he said,
lookin like an oyster
that’s 10 days dead:
“I’m Bu-ush!
I’m Bu-ush!
“Well, I’m the Man!
I hid my hand
with my role in the Iran-
Contra scam!
Well, the arms went down
and the drugs came up
right in the planes
Ollie North sent up.
Noriega was part of
my scumbag scam
but when he skimmed
the profits
then I said, “DAMN!”
“I’m Bu-ush!
I’m Bu-ush!
“Hey!
Folks!
My name is Bush!
I may pose as a wimp
who is easy to push
but I was the head
of the CIA
so torture and murder
is the game I play!
An as for drugs,
now don’t you worry,
we’re gonna solve that problem
an solve it in a hurry.
One snap of my fingers
an it’s gone
cause I got a Panamanian
to pin it on!
“Look, Ma!
It’s Panama!
“Well, it’s biff! bam!
pow! ka-blooie!
I’m rockin to the beat
of the Panama boogie,
I’m rockin till I stop
an I won’t stop rockin
till I get some Panamanian
heads a-knockin!
“I’m Bu-ush!
I’m Bu-ush!
“I’m killin folks
right in their own land,
I’m violatin borders
to beat the band!
“I’m Bu-ush!
I’m Bu-ush!...”
Well, I’d had about enough
of this old fool
when this naked emperor
he started to drool
cause they brought him Noriega’s
head in a cup
an it looked like a pineapple
wrong side up.
These two had got me
about to puke
when in walked a yuppified
Cool Hand Luke.
Twas a union boss,
a big Democrat,
with two Harvard profs
to help him yak.
Now this dream was a nightmare,
I started to sweat,
but it turns out I hadn’t
heard nothin yet.
This bunch of beauties,
notorious for lies,
began to warble
an harmonize
an they sang so sweetly
in a minor mode
they sounded like a public
toilet commode:
(Both):
“We’re don-keys!
We’re don-keys!
(Prof.): We’re Democrats
an we’re concerned --
(U. Boss): how to fiddle sweetly
while Panama burns!
We show that
Democratic Party compassion
by invading countries
in Hitler fashion!
We live a rich life
off the rich man’s profits
so we sure won’t tell
him to stuff it!
Whenever he wants
to blame someone else
we join the chorus
to save our health!”
(Both):
“We’re don-keys!
We’re don-keys!
“We braa-a-ay!
To-da-a-ay!
(Prof.):
“Now, take these drugs
that the rich man deals
while out of your mouth
the bread he steals --
it’s great Noriega
fell into our lap.
We got a real crook
to take the rap!
We like to pose
as better than him,
but this is a lie
that’s getting thin!”
(U. Boss):
“Hey!
Look!
We got Vegas!
An a Mafia filled
wit Noriegas,
not to mention the government
an corporate boards
but against our masters
we say no words.
Instead we tell workers
to fight foreign folks
while we junket to Vegas
to hear dirty jokes!”
(Both):
“We’re don-keys!
We’re don-keys!
(Prof.): “So keep the crumbs comin,
we’re beggin please,
(U. Boss): cause we’re tryin to get the workers
down on their knees
(an that’s a hard job,
can’t you see?)
When things are smooth
some think we’re cool.
But when Bush hits a crunch
he can count on our bunch!
(Both):
“So if Bush can rock,
then we can too!
“So it’s biff! bam!
pow! ka-blooie!
We’re rockin to the beat
of the Panama boogie!
We’re rockin till we stop
an we won’t stop rockin
till we get some Panamanian
heads a-knockin!
Violatin an killin
is our game too!
We help the rich
till we’re black an blue!
“We’re don-keys1
We’re don-keys!”
Now all this bull
was too much for me
so I woke up
an turned off the TV
an I lay back down
an I lay there thinkin
that this whole damn thing
was really stinkin.
I thought about one thing
an one thing only:
that this drug excuse
is really phony,
that what Bush an
the Democrats were doin
is giving the masses
another screwin.
An as I lay there
I could see
a terrible memory
comin back to me!
VIETNAM!
VIETNAM!
When I hear that name
I can’t stay calm,
for the bosses...
the big-shots...
the corporate boys
made millions off the death
of American boys
not to mention
the people
of Vietnam --
when you mention that name
how can I stay calm?
An on the TV screen
you just saw
Bush do the same
to Panama!
So, listen, folks,
an listen well:
Bush an the Dems
can go to Hell!
They’re after one thing,
I can tell you, pal:
to keep the cash flowin
from the Panama Canal!
To do this
they’ll send
you an me
to kill the
workers
overseas.
So let’s tell them NO
an let’s stand up,
let’s get the masses
to wake up.
Get the workers an the poor
to organize
to make the rich pay
for their dirty crimes!
With this pleasant thought
I chanced to snooze
an my mind went on
a future cruise.
I was marchin with a crowd
of workin folk
an what we were doin
it wasn’t no joke.
It felt so good
to see our people rise up
that my face was beamin
an my heart began to pump,
an we headed into
the workers’ fight
with red flags flyin --
ah, what a sight! --
an from every mouth
came forth a chant,
a powerful shout,
with a militant dance:
“We’re wor-kers1
We’re wor-kers!
“We’re marchin!
We’re marchin!
“Wit a knuckle an a fist
an a calloused hand,
we’re marchin to the beat
of a militant band,
we’re marchin till we stop
an we won’t be stoppin
till we get
the rich man’s
head for choppin!”
“We’re marchin!
We’re marchin!
“We fought every evil
thing that was done
by Johnson, Nixon
an Ronald Ray-gun,
so tell ol Bush
to watch his tush
we’re gonna
give him
the overthrow push!
We’re gonna join the workers
of every country
an fight till every
worker is free,
we’re gonna fight the bosses
of every land
cause we’re marchin to the beat
of a militant band!
We’re marchin till we stop
an we won’t be stoppin
till we get
the rich man’s
head for choppin!
“We’re wor-kers!
We’re wor-kers!
“We’re marchin!
We’re marchin!
“Wit a knuckle an a fist
an a calloused hand
we’re marchin to the beat
of a militant band!
We’re fightin the bosses
wherever we can!
Gonna throw-Bush-an-
the-Donkeys-in
the garbage can!
So rise up
workers
all over this land
with a knuckle an a fist
an a calloused hand!...
(Fading.)
