Here's to the State of Richard Nixon - Phil Ochs

Here’s to the state of Richard Nixon

Where underneath his borders

The Devil draws no lines

If you drag his muddy rivers

Nameless bodies you will find

And the fat trees of the forest

Have hid a thousand crimes

And the calendar is lying

When it reads the present time

Oh here’s to the land you’ve torn out the heart of

Richard Nixon: find yourself another country to be part of

And here’s to the schools of Richard Nixon

Where they’re teaching all the children

That they don’t have to care

All the rudiments of hatred

Are present everywhere

And every single classroom

Is a factory of despair

There’s nobody learning

Such a foreign word as «fair.»

And here’s to the laws of Richard Nixon

Where the wars are fought in secret

Pearl Harbor every day

He punishes with income tax

That he don’t have to pay

And he’s tapping his own brother

Just to hear what he would say

But corruption can be classic

In the Richard Nixon way

And here’s to the churches of Richard Nixon (and Billy Graham)

Where the cross once made of silver

Now is caked with rust

And the Sunday morning sermons

Pander to their lust

And the fallen face of Jesus

Is choking in the dust

And Heaven only knows

In which God they can trust

And here’s to the government of Richard Nixon

In the swamp of their bureaucracy

They’re always bogging down

And criminals are posing

As advisors to the crown

And they hope that no one sees the sights

And no one hears the sounds

And the speeches of the president

Are the ravings of a clown