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There Goes the Neighborhood
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Inspired by the wave of immigrant rights demonstrations.
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Political/personal songs since the 1960s -- killer ballads, working-class anthems, political satire. Fred's twelve-string guitar can be anything from a blues ba
Fred Stanton’s songs (along with his lumberjack voice and jumbo 12-string guitar) embody the political folk-singing tradition. Fred has been an industrial worker (a welder of oilfield equipment; an electronic assembler; and a railroad electrician, hostler and brakeperson) as well as a political organizer and union activist. This life is at the heart of his songsmoving, personal ballads, rollicking satires, and working-class anthems. Fred has been singing in concerts, union rallies and political protests since the 1960s. His union songs celebrate the struggles of strikers at Peabody Coal, poultry processing workers in North Carolina, and strawberry pickers in California. And his "Singing Cars," a Bronx salute to car alarms, has been featured on NPR’s "Car Talk" show. Newest songs include “Five-Dollar Coal,” which is the story of miners in Utah fighting for a union.
Song Info
Genre
Acoustic • Acoustic Folk
Charts
Peak #226
Peak in subgenre #36
Author
Fred Stanton
Rights
Copyright © 2006 by Fred Stanton
Uploaded
April 11, 2006
Track Files
MP3
MP3 3.6 MB • 128 kbps • 3:54
Story behind the song
In early 2006, after the U.S. government threatened to pass harsher immigration laws, hundreds of thousands of workers, mostly immigrants, demonstrated for legalization across the country. Many of those who rallied were workers who are fighting to build a union. One sign at the march in Los Angeles said, "If you think I'm 'illegal' because I'm a Mexican, learn the true history, because I'm in my homeland."
Lyrics
There Goes the Neighborhood This was our land for fifteen thousand years. No Spanish or English, we kept our ancient ways. Then they came with guns and horses, blankets, beads, and beer, Singing God Save the King and Amazing Grace. Gold was jewelry, now it’s the soul of greed. We used to share the land, now it’s privatized. The animals were our brothers, now they’re commodities, And we cannot bear to look in our neighbor’s eyes. Chorus: We cannot speak our native tongue, We cannot hear each other’s hearts, We fear the stranger, he’s up to no good, There goes the neighborhood. Did we fingerprint the Pilgrims and Billy Penn? Did we ask Columbus for papers when he came? Refugees don’t need a jail, they simply need a friend. Has money finally driven the world insane? (Chorus) Their sacred border used to start in Oregon, Tejas, California, it was all Mexican land. They built their malls and freeways on the altars of Aztlan, And they guard it now with vigilante bands. (Chorus) Will these factories roar when we are in the streets? Who will work the orchards, the restaurants, the trucks? We are just as American as the ground beneath our feet. We didn’t cross the border, it crossed us. (Chorus)
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