Oh, a thousand marching armies and a million marching men
|
have won the wide world over and lost it back again,
|
But now the word has gone to ev'ry fallen land,
|
that this old world is changing hands.
|
From the master to the servant, from the owner to the slave
|
Colonial days are buried in a deep and dirty grave;
|
It's so easy to see and well to understand
|
That this old world is changing hands.
|
|
Washington and Jefferson and Patrick Henry too,
|
they knew what they were doing when they started something new
|
it was in this giant land of ours that it all began
|
When this old land was changing hands.
|
*chorus*
|
|
And when World War Two was rollin' by the tide was on its way
|
Many countries had to listen to the words they had to say
|
and the word was spread by millions, all of yellow, black, and tan,
|
that this old world is changing hands.
|
*chorus*
|
|
Now Africa and Asia and the Carribean shore
|
No longer can be counted as the spoils of war
|
They were bought and sold together, now together they will stand,
|
For this old world is changing hands.
|
*chorus*
|
|
-----------------
|
This Old World Is Changing Hands
|
Phil Ochs |