Texty: Wilco. My Thirty Thousand.

Paul Robeson, he?s the man
That faced the Ku Klux Klan
On hollow grove?s golfing ground
His words come sounding

And all around him there
To jump and clap and cheer
I sent the best I had, the best I had
My thirty thousand

The Klansman leader said
That Paul would lose his head
When thirty five thousand vets
Broke up that concert

But less than four thousand came
To side with the Klan
But around Paul?s lonesome oak
My thirty thousand

A beersoaked brassy band
Did snortle round the grounds
Four hundred noblest souls
Westchester?s manhood

And they looked exactly like
The fleas on a tiger?s back
Lost fish in the waters of
My thirty thousand

When Paul had sung and gone
And the kids and babies home
Cops came with guns and clubs
And they clubbed and beat 'em

Well, I?d hate to be a cop
Caught with a bloody stick
'Cause you can?t bash the brains
Out of thirty thousand

Each eye you tried to gouge
Each skull you tried to crack
Has a thousand, thousand friends
Around this green grass

If you furnish the skull someday
I'll pass out the clubs and guns
To the billion hands that love
My thirty thousand

Each wrinkle on your face
I know it at a glance
You cannot run and hide
Nor duck nor dodge them

And your carcass and your deeds
Will fertilize the seeds
Of the men that stood to guard
My thirty thousand
Of the men that stood to guard
My thirty thousand