When people twist your words, Woodrow, ah, they'll 
twist at every whim 

It's thugs that run the unions now and use your songs 
like hymns 

Once, your music danced on women's thighs and the arch 
of a hobo's brow- ow 

Aw, Mrs. Guthrie look what they done to your brown-eyed 
baby now 


Oh, the trains leave every morning, some go east and 
some go west 

And the clacking of the iron is the sound you love the 
best 

It's the great escape from railroad bulls and the Coney 
Island girl s 

Aw, Mrs. Guthrie, look what we done to your brown eyed 
boy with curls 

Chorus: 

Sing the truth, scream it loud (2nd time: sing it loud) 

Aw, Mrs. Guthrie, look what they done to your brown-
eyed baby now 
(2nd time: we done) 


All those boxcars full of Chinese junk, the caboose has 
been junk piled 

And we're all buying g roceries now from men with 
crooked smiles 

You were a drunken, wild mis ogyneer and your politics 
were crude 

As you s at home writing nursery rhymes and drawing 
women nude 


And all those politicians breaths stink bad, be they 
left or be they right 

And the ones who play with rhetoric are not the ones to 
fight 
Don't go coming 'round here, Woodrow, they'll stretch 
you from a rope 
And your corpse won't ever find a bar where a man can 
drink and smoke 

Repeat Chorus 

Instrumental (chorus) 

C G C Em 
Did you hear the scre en door sl am, Ma, Woodrow' s 
gone again 
G C G Em 
He's writin' obscene letters now, the Feds might bring 
him in 

C G Em D 
But every song he ever wrote is hangin' on the bree ze 
C G C D G 
With the l aundry in the Guthrie yard full of Hunting 
ton's dis ease 

C G C Em 
So, Woodrow, rest in peace, old pal, there ain't 
nothin' for you here 
G C G Em 
We're in the scrub oak country now, the land of dread 
an' fear 
C G Em D 
And whitey's in the wood pile and the writing's on the 
wall 
C G C D G 
But your ring of truth still echoes down the Greystone 
clinic hall 

Repeat Chorus 


So here's to all outsiders, all the ones who could not 
fit 

The troubadour, the prisoners, the drunken Ind ian 

Ah, the circus freaks, the wounded lovers will make it 
through someh ow 

Ah, Mrs. Guthrie, we are ridin' blind with your brown 
eyed baby now 

Sing the truth scream it loud 

Ah, Mrs. Guthrie, look what we done to your brown-eyed 
baby now 

Sing the truth, scream it l oud 

Ah, Mrs. Guthrie, look w hat we done to your brown-eyed 
baby now