Where have all the old songs gone –
the ones we sang while marching?
They brought cohesion, fought despair,
helped us get from here to there.
The work’s not done; there’s much to do –
much to tend, much to fix, much to stop,
much to build, much to nurture, much to birth.
If the answer, my friend, is blowing in the wind,
let us listen, let us sing, let us gather, let us begin.