CO-OP PRESS

Featuring the music of Sy Brandon

Three Songs of Protest (1971) (Baritone and Piano) - Based on poems of the composer's uncle who was one of eight conscientious objectors imprisoned during World War I. The vocal part is tonal while the piano part adds dissonances and harmony appropriate to the text. This work is recorded by Marshal Urban and Tim Christian on the Emeritus label. Duration 10:00 Grade 5, 2 copies for $15.00

I Object!

by Joseph Brandon

You ask me to shoulder a gun

And fight for democracy,

Against the fiend, the terrible Hun

And his autocracy.

But how can I leave my rake

And sail across the foam,

To fight and ie for Liberty's sake,

When it doesn't exist at home?

You tell me of murder and rape,

The work of the inhuman brute,

And to silence forever his grape,

You ask me to go forth and shoot.

But how can I leave my rake

And sail across the foam,

To fight and die for Decency's sake,

When it doesn't exist at home?

You speak of humanity,

Of how it lies bleeding,

And then you claim you cannot see

Why I should be unheeding.

But how can I leave my rake

And sail across the foam,

To fight and die for Righteousness' sake,

When it doesn't exist at home?

I object - I refuse to slay

My brother in some other land,

But I strive and work for the day

When peace shall be here, at hand.

That's why I don't leave my rake

And sail across the foam,

To fight and die for Peace's sake,

I want it right here - at home?

Liberty

by Joseph Brandon

Thou art the earth's most precious jewel

For which there's always strife,

And though your road is hard and cruel,

Without you, what is life?

We never miss the bright sunbeam

Until the light grows pale.

We never know just what you mean

Until we land in jail.

How many men have suffered dear

While learning what you cost?

And as they struggled without fear

How many lives were lost?

Though quite a few have won great fame

While trudging to your throne,

Still others, who have done the same

Are dead now - and unknown.

Yet as I sit inside my cell

This pledge I will keep true,

Although I know it may mean Hell -

I give my life to you.

Thou art the earth's most precious jewel

For which there's always strife,

And though your road is hard and cruel,

Without you, what is life?

Paradox

by Joseph Brandon

This is the age of inventions

And great are the things that they give.

But with all our wondrous achievements,

We still haven't learned how to live.

We have harnessed the forces of nature.

The deserts bloom out at our breath,

But still in the midst of abundance,

Thousands are starving to death.

The depths of the sea hold no terror.

We've conquered the air with our feats.

Yet daily we find our poor sisters

Still selling their souls in the streets.

Our children, the young generation,

The tots, who though young, are yet old,

From slaving inside of some hell hole,

Where bodies are ground into gold.

And men with their muscles so eager,

To labor, not willing to shirk,

Deprived of the right to be useful,

They seek, empty bellied, for work.

The few have control of the many,

And rule with a whiplash of fire,

And tighter the screws are aturning,

And grinding man down in the mire.

Our deeds like a Frankenstein vicious,

Seem ever to curse and devour,

Instead of them lifting our burdens,

Have only enslaved us the more.

But some day the toilers will waken

And put capital in its grave.

Machinery - no longer our master,

Will be what it should be - our slave.