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Juan De La Cruz
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Joan Baez
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(Words and Music by Joan Baez)
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Once again the workers rise with the lark
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There's a mass going on in the people's park
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Silent and determined they set to embark
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On a three day fast and a five mile march
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For a man's been shot on the picket line
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Sixty years of strength was young for dying
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His family is here with eyes of red
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His wife steps down with feet of lead
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And the sun shines down upon
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The old man whose days are done
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For a martyr has been taken
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He is old Juan de la Cruz
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And a century of women pray
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At the casket before them laid
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And the Virgin of Guadalupe
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Watches over de la Cruz
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As the heat poured down on the field below
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The lead came a-flying from the vineyard row
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De la Cruz and his wife never ducked or ran
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Union folks since the fight began
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People scattered out laying low to the ground
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And slowly arose as the dust died down
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Birds fluttered soft in his sweet wife's breast
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As the bullets sank deep in the old man's chest
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The tears fell as Cesar read
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The eulogy for the dead
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And the Bishop broke the people's bread
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Over old Juan de la Cruz
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In the pitch of night a deal was made
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The deck's oldest card was played
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And the devil watched someone get paid
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For the death of de la Cruz
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Thirty years ago in the same damn spot
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The people who ordered the workers shot
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Fought as the poor for the same damn right
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Of their children to sleep well fed at night
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Oh Children of Brotherhood how you've grown
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But the seeds of hate were early sown
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I see that your souls have long since flown
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To the river of greed where angels moan
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Midst flowered veils and weathered graves
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And flags where the great black eagle waves
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Nosotros Venceremos plays
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For old Juan de la Cruz
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There's work today that must be done
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Pray for the man who held the gun
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And with sightless eyes shot down the one
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Called old Juan de la Cruz
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The rest of our story now soft and clear
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How half our daily bread appears
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Picked through the summer by young and old
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Whose earnings must last through the winter's cold
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By children who have stood with their backs bent down
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To scrape the roots from the grower's ground
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And mothers who have wept the night away
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For a child born dead on a rainy day
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Well it's true that blessed are the poor
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Through an iron mist - I can't be sure -
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It looks like I see heaven's door
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Swinging wide for de la Cruz
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The nuns, the priests and the workers sing
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Through a valley of blood their voices ring
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Hallelujah, he is risen, and thank you, Lord
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For old Juan de la Cruz
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Hallelujah, he is risen, and thank you, Lord
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For old Juan de la Cruz
Joan Baez - Diamonds and Rust (With Lyri...
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