Joan Baez, born on January 9th, 1941, is an American folk singer/songwriter of mixed Mexican and Scottish descent. Baez rose to prominence in the early '60s with her stunning renditions of traditional balladry. In the late '60s and early '70s, Baez came into her songwriting own, penning many songs (most notably "Diamonds & Rust," a nostalgic piece about her ill-fated romance with Bob Dylan, and "Sweet Sir Galahad," a song about her late sister Mimi Fariña's second marriage) and continued to meld her songcraft with topical issues. She was outspoken in her disapproval of the Vietnam war and later the CIA-backed coups in many Latin American countries. She was also instrumental in the Civil Rights movement, marching with Dr.
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Cambodia Lyrics
Joan Baez
We've watched them leaving, seen their ragged flight
Children of the jungle, mothers of the night
A boy of ten by the roadside lies
Hears his future in whispers and cries
And clutching a tiny Buddha charm
A baby dies in his mother's arms
Is there only sorrow in Cambodia?
Is there no tomorrow in Cambodia?
Leaving the graves of your ancestors after a thousand years
Leaving a few belongings after a thousand tears
How come you never left before through bombing, famine and flood?
Are the rivers useless now spilling over with blood?
Is there only sorrow in Cambodia?
Is there no tomorrow in Cambodia?
I hear there are very few children from ages one to five
It takes more than jungle leaves to keep the young ones alive
I hear some of the rice got through the outside's trying to send to you
There you sit in the ruins of war, the doctors are waiting at your door
And we will try and feed you, try and go to you
People of Kampuchea, Cambodia
A little way in from the border in the crowded camps
I've seen mothers giving birth, seen beautiful orphans dance
An old man turns and covers his eyes, he was never supposed to cry
With sons and daughters and home and wife
Taken from him in his autumn life
Should we try and feed you, say hello to you
Old man of Kampuchea, Kampuchea, Cambodia
Call another conference, write another song
Deliver another ton of rice and hope it gets where it belongs
And rival teams of bandits are really the only choice
Even if the people had their bellies filled, even if the people had a voice
And meanwhile, lovers are caught in the crossfire
Children are caught in the barbed wire
Military sinks in the mire
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