The road to freedom’s never been a straight one. You constantly find unexpected turns. You think your goal is just past the horizon Till you find out what every traveler learns. The signs beside the road might only promise A destination no one yet has built. Sometimes a sign will lure you to the wrong way, A road to serfdom mired in muddy silt. No matter where you go, there’s new construction, And sometimes it has barely made a start. It’s necessary, since there are so many Who’d like to tear the whole damn road apart. There may be times when you don’t like the scenery And places that you’d rather not go through. It always is important to remember The road to freedom isn’t just for you. Be patient when the traffic isn’t moving. Look for a detour if you have to stop. There often are collisions bringing chaos. The road to freedom has no traffic cop. Sometimes you wonder if you’ll ever get there. Sometimes you’ll look around and think you’re lost. And when you add up all the toll you’re paying, You’ll wonder if the trip is worth the cost. There really is no final destination; You only can get closer than before. When you think you are stuck and getting nowhere, You have to fuel up and try once more. The progress that you make is its own reason. The farther on you go, the more you’re free. It’s better than just sitting down and grumbling, And every quarter mile’s a victory.

When church and state were one and right belief required, When people worshipped only as the king desired, When all had to conform and heresy was banned, When every knee must bow before the law’s command, What did it take to be Roger Williams? When Boston offered him a safe and easy post To preach within its church and be a gracious host, When all he had to do was sign away his mind And keep a silent tongue on questions he might find, What did it take to be Roger Williams? When called before the court for failure to conform, And driven from his home into the winter storm, When only native help allowed him to survive So he could start anew and keep his hope alive, What did it take to be Roger Williams? When people looked to him to lead a new-made town, A place where differing thoughts would not keep any down, When he said government should not take any part In matters of the church, and took that rule to heart, What did it take to be Roger Williams? When war came to his town and his old friends turned foe And burned all that he’d built, and yet he did not go But tried to make a peace, though it was quickly plain The battles would not end and many would be slain, What did it take to be Roger Williams? Today when we are free to choose a church or none, Or speak against the crimes our government has done, When someone fights against the grabbing of their land Or publishes a book that tyrants would have banned, We can look back and see Roger Williams.

John Winthrop’s folk came to Boston’s land To worship freely, as they had planned. From persecution they sailed away To safety by Massachusetts Bay. But of the liberty they had won, To other people they offered none, So if a different way you’d believe, You had two choices: To die or leave. Refrain: The Puritans lived for purity. Their greatest danger was heresy. But Mary said worship should be free, And so she had to die. But hangings cannot kill liberty Nor end defiance of tyranny, For she did hang as a flag to see And take example by. When Mary Dyer took up the call That said the truth could be known by all, The Puritans said she had to go, For truth was clergy’s alone to know. Then she gave birth to a stillborn child, Which Winthrop cursed in a sermon wild, And said misfortune just underscored Her great disfavor before the Lord. Refrain So Mary trusted in Providence, With Roger Williams she traveled hence And joined the Society of Friends, Who knew the power a free mind lends. She learned to follow the Inner Light And find the guidance to learn the right. And from that guidance she came to learn To Boston city she must return. Instrumental break She came again and again to preach, Though Boston exiled her for such speech. She was arrested. The judge, he said That for her preaching she’d hang till dead. They’d let her go if she would consent To cease her errors and to repent, But her belief she would not deny, So Mary Dyer then had to die. Refrain She said, “Repeal your unrighteous law,” And in the end, Boston’s people saw No power is strong enough to bind The courage of a free human mind. And Massachusetts would later hear From Samuel Adams and Paul Revere That human beings should all be free, And take the cause up for liberty. Refrain

When Ona Judge was living on George Washington’s estate, She couldn’t leave or quit her job, for slavery was her state. But one day she decided she would be a slave no more. When nobody was looking, she just walked out the door. Refrain: Far away, can you hear them? Far away, far away and free. She got onto a ship bound for New Hampshire to live free, In Portsmouth she met people who believed in liberty, Who said that freedom was for all, the dark ones and the light, Who let her live the way she chose; that surely was her right. Refrain The President sent men up north to take his slave away, But she would not be frightened, and she said that she would stay. They never took her back, and she remained there all her life, A slave by law, but truly a free woman and a wife. Refrain What can we say of Washington, who made our country free Yet would not grant in his own house the right of liberty? The answer isn’t easy, for both of them are true. They’re both a part of what he was, of what he chose to do. Refrain

I used to say that the U.S.A. Should have freedom for everyone, But I'm now the Prez, and today I sez That the time for that stuff is done. As you just saw, we have passed a law, To insult me is now a crime. I've turned out the lights on the Bill of Rights For it's now past its useful time. Refrain: From Georgia's shore to Baltimore And north to Boston Town, My party's won and we'll have some fun And put all sedition down. I said no one can trust in any man Not to short-change our liberty. Now I'm showing you what I said is true, Though you thought that you could trust me. The fake news press causes me distress. What they're saying is a sin. So I'll get them back. The Sedition Act Will make sure they're all reined in. Refrain I was, you see, the first V.P. Under Washington I did serve. When they did elect me, I thought respect Was the least that I should deserve. All should be free in their liberty But should be guided by the wise, And all who impel people to rebel Should be punished for printing lies. Refrain You say to me it's hypocrisy, For I spoke out against the king, But it's not the same, it's a different game When my party has grabbed the ring. The time is dead when "Resist" I said And approved rebellious speech. For this year I will "Sedition!" cry And obedience I will teach. Refrain

Refrain: Nothing has power like words on a page. They can tear down an empire or launch a new age. They can shatter a falsehood and unlock a cage. Such is the strength of the words on a page. There was a law, slaves must not learn to read. If they knew letters, then they might rebel. But Frederick Douglass discovered the seed. Just who had taught him, he would never tell. Frederick taught others, in spite of the law. If he’d been caught, his fate would have been grim. Through written words, new horizons they saw, Though through the darkness the light still was dim. Refrain When he got free, Frederick authored a book Telling the world how he’d lived as a slave. Those who had never seen whips had to look At the vile punishments slaveholders gave. Lighting the North Star, he put into text Visions of worlds where all people were free. “Truth is of no color, Right has no sex.” Words that would water the Liberty Tree. Refrain When war was raging, he wrote a reply To those who asked, “If the slaves all go free, What will we do with them?” He said, “You try To do too much to us! Just let us be!” Such was the force in the words from his pen, Fighting injustice, defending the right, That they brought freedom to women and men, Showing the way under liberty’s light. Refrain

Oh, where have you gone, Bully Boy, Bully Boy? Far off from our shores, charming Teddy? “I have gone to grab Hawaii, and the natives can’t deny me. With my big stick I’m loaded with ambition.” What happened with Spain, Bully Boy, Bully Boy? Why did you want war, charming Teddy? “San Juan made great battle scenes, and we got the Philippines. With my big stick I’m loaded with ambition.” Why is Coca-Cola bad, Bully Boy, Bully Boy? Is it cocaine you despise, charming Teddy? “Coca-Cola has caffeine, quite unlike the coffee bean. With my big stick I’m loaded with ambition.” Why do you want income tax, Bully Boy, Bully Boy? Why do you want what we earn, charming Teddy? “I think income tax is great for a mighty central State. With my big stick I’m loaded with ambition.” When you wanted a Canal, Bully Boy, Bully Boy, Why did you send warships there, charming Teddy? “So Colombia could see there was reason to agree. With my big stick I’m loaded with ambition.” What should we learn from you, Bully Boy, Bully Boy, Why are you so admired, charming Teddy? “When you’re tough and have the looks, you get praise in hist’ry books. With my big stick I’m loaded with ambition.”

We want to thank you, Uncle Sam, for what you’ve done for us. You’ve taken out our lousy competition! We own the liquor market, though our customers might cuss. The bucks are pouring in, thank prohibition! We love you, Andrew Volstead, and the Temp’rance League as well, And all who want to save you from perdition. So what if they say drinking alcohol will lead to Hell? There’s nothing finer than their prohibition. Bridge: We’re going on the town to have some fun With filled-up barrels and a tommy gun, And when our sales promotion pitch is done, We know you’re gonna buy it. Now don’t be shy, just try it. But damn those mugs who want the Eighteenth tossed out and repealed. That kind of talk is nothing but sedition! We’ve bought the cops and politicians, so their fate is sealed. We’re looking for eternal prohibition. Bridge: You’ll find our gin and whisky are so fine, We’ve got the greatest beer and ale and wine, And so we’re going to send a Valentine, So that you’ll always love us when no one stands above us. If you have got the password, come on in and have a drink. There’s tasty snacks to munch on in addition. But if you want to keep your health, don’t ever be a fink. That’s how it works when you’ve got prohibition.

Once a fellow had a scheme That would help him reach his dream. He had wealth in timberlands That brought money to his hands. They made pulp that he could use, For he also printed news. But there was one thing he cursed, Good old William Randolph Hearst. Hemp is good for pulp as well. Many farms grew it to sell. It competes with wood from trees, And it’s grown with greater ease. He despised this simple crop, Dreamed of how he’d make it stop, So a campaign he rehearsed, Planned by William Randolph Hearst. There was one variety That was high in THC. Mexicans would smoke the leaves, Since discomfort it relieves. Stir up hatred for the plant, Link it with the immigrant. People would believe the worst. So thought William Randolph Hearst. Heard a song once in a bar: “Marihuana que fumar.” Saw how he could play the game, “Marijuana” its new name. In his papers he would rant On the dangers of the plant Till he was about to burst, Ranted William Randolph Hearst. It was an addictive drug, Turned a good man to a thug, On its smokers it would work, Made them violent and berserk. Spoken, in a lethargic voice: Hey, man. Kill. Maim. Whatever. Finally a chance he saw To promote a fed’ral law Building on the vision nursed By our William Randolph Hearst. Since that time, for many years, Wars on drugs have played on fears. They have injured me and you More than drugs could ever do. Letting cops smash down your door While the gangsters profit more. Pushing them, among the first Was old William Randolph Hearst.

Something there is that loves a wall, That wants the other people far away, That says “It’s right to be apart, And each of us on our own side should stay.” Something that says you’re different, That in between us there must be a line. It says you need to know your place And set a moat between your home and mine. Word came down from the F.H.A. To say who could be worthy of a loan. On maps around black neighborhoods A line drawn in forbidding red was shown. And in Detroit the rules declared Most neighborhoods off limits to dark skin. In places where they were allowed, The residents were packed and crowded in. An area too close to them Faced disapproval from the F.H.A. Although black skin was banished there It could be seen not very far away. So a developer put up A wall of concrete parting black from white. It stood between the neighborhoods And kept those colored people out of sight. It wasn’t hard to walk around. The Birwood Wall was just a half mile long. It power was in what it said: “Beyond this line you people don’t belong.” It satisfied the F.H.A. And the appraisers from H.O.L.C. The red line ran along the wall, A line and wall dividing you from me. The Birwood Wall is standing still, Stands to remind us of those tragic days When bureaucrats who had the pow’r Demanded that we go in sep’rate ways. Today its face is not so grim; Bright images now decorate the wall. The barrier it tried to keep Has yielded to a sign of hope for all.

At the very north end of Vermont is the town Derby Line. At the very north end of the town is a building quite fine. It’s a library that has a hall with a stage that is grand. Half the building is in the U.S., half on Canada’s land. Long ago you could walk in the door, no one cared from which side. You’d just amble down Church Street or get on a horse for the ride. To cross over the national boundary line was a breeze, No one asked for a passport or thought to say “Your papers, please.” Refrain: Now we have learned that we must be on guard ‘gainst each other. Now we have learned that all people must stay on their sides. But there’s a library standing astride the border, Bringing together what nationalism divides. Whether Stanstead or Derby Line was your address, it’s the same. To the Haskell Free Library readers from two countries came. Patrons sat in Vermont and watched shows on the stage in Quebec. There were no guards to stand in the way and no visas to check. In our time things have changed, and whenever Canadians want To get books, they must cross at the border to enter Vermont. To make sure no one goes to the side where they’re not s’posed to be, It is watched by the Border Patrol and the R.C.M.P. Refrain If it’s smugglers, spies, or diseases, or terrorist thugs, Or else shoppers out looking to buy some affordable drugs, It will serve as a reason to make everybody afraid And pretend that their barriers offer us much-needed aid. Yet this maverick library stands, no one dares tear it down, As if saying, “Who cares for your borders, we all are one town.” As if wondering how this absurd separation did start, As if laughing at checkpoints and guards that would keep us apart. Refrain

As I was on the highway and the tickets I was faking, I stopped a long-haul driver and his money I was taking. I first produced my badge and then I sternly told him, “Sonny, I don’t have any charge to bring but you’ll forfeit your money.” Refrain: Musha ringuma doo durm’da Let’s stop that Caddy-oh, Let’s stop that Caddy-oh, There’s money in the car. I brought in all I’d taken to the station right and proper. The cash will go to good use. More than half stays with the coppers. I filed the needed papers and I didn’t do it sloppy. I took the ones from last week’s stop and made a photocopy. Refrain I went to my apartment all for to take a slumber, I dreamt of a promotion, boys, and sure it was no wonder But the trucker made a phone call, don’t know why he didn’t trust us, Then set a lawyer on us from the Institute for Justice. Refrain When I came to the station, was early in the mornin’, This lawyer came right up to me and uttered words of warnin’. She told me that I couldn’t go grabbin’ cash at leisure. She claimed the Fourth Amendment won’t permit a causeless seizure. Refrain I wish that I was workin’ for Sheriff Joe Arpaio I know he’d treat me better than Montana or Ohio. Revivin’ his old days on the roads of Arizona, We’d have fun stopping cars and taking money from its owner. Refrain

Serious people belittle and chaff At those who try to persuade with a laugh. When we are working to make people free, We must take big issues seriously. But sometimes humor allows us to say How you could view things a different way. Showing that nonsense is nonsense can work. That was the method of P. J. O’Rourke. Some call for freedom by sounding the bell, Warning us that we are headed for Hell. They point at people unjustly oppressed, Asking us why we are not more distressed. They touch the conscience, and passions they raise, Answered with fierce opposition and praise, Yet some will say, “It’s not such a big deal, Why get worked up over fears that aren’t real?” Others appeal to the rational mind, With explanations precise and refined, Showing how cause has to lead to effect, Proving with evidence that they’re correct. They earn great praise, but it’s just from the few Who take the time to judge if it’s all true. Someday their influence may be profound, If only when we’re no longer around. Some aim for freedom by working inside. Step by small step they hope they’ll turn the tide. Speaking at meetings and courting the vote, Changing the heading as they rock the boat. But others have long been playing the game, Keeping the power to which they lay claim. Working from inside may offer some hope, But the old guard is well able to cope. You worked for freedom by making us smile, Making a serious point all the while. Looking firsthand into dangerous lands, Finding absurdity in their commands. Maybe you weren’t always deep and profound, But humor can bring a skeptic around. Even some doubters will grant this is true: P. J. O’Rourke, we will always miss you.

Mine eyes have seen the coming of the mighty censor horde. They are trampling on the bookshelf where “The Grapes of Wrath” is stored. They have loosed their lightning on Bruce Catton’s “Terrible Swift Sword.” Their gangs are marching on! Refrain: Glory, glory, light the bonfire! Glory, glory, light the bonfire! Glory, glory, light the bonfire! Their gangs are marching on! They are burning Harry Potter and Detective Strike as well. They’d have “Huckleberry Finn” and “Maus” burn side by side in Hell. The Bible and Quran are books they’re planning to expel. Their gangs are marching on! Refrain The only valid thoughts are ones that they have thought, they’re sure, And disagreement with them is a thing they can’t endure. They mustn’t be offended and they have to keep you pure. Their gangs are marching on! Refrain In the beauty of their thoughts they can’t stand any blasphemy. They don’t want us reading anything that is less than P.C. They are sure their cause is holy, and they hate a press that’s free. Their gangs are marching on! Refrain