And The Mountains Will Be Barren

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I came of age in the late 60’s/early 70’s.  So it is crazy to me, with war, wealth, and warming – the three W’s – such prominent issues that we don’t have more than a smattering of protest – art, music, theater – and little yet that has captured the nation’s attention.

Bob Dylan has nothing to fear from these lyrics, but you can tell I’m pretty frustrated with the lack of action by the leaders of our country as our abilities to change course become more limited, the options more draconian, the results more dire.

Politicians and others who could have made a difference or who actually obstructed real efforts to turn the climate change bus (diesel-powered or not) around, will not be remembered fondly.

And The Mountains Will Be Barren

Lyrics by Michael Kroth

And the mountains will be barren, the seas an oily mass,

deer and bees forgotten, humans soon to pass.

Drinking putrid water, and breathing noxious gas.


You say you’re not a scientist, well brother nor am I,

God gave us prophets on this earth, who study all the sign,

They say our climate’s warming,  the time is short they sigh.

You say you’re not a scientist, then hear their frightening cry.

(Spoken)  I could understand Senator if you weren’t informed, educated, truly didn’t understand the impact of global warming and how people, humans, are causing it or at least making it worse. It’s the death knell of the earth as we know it, man – if you just didn’t get it Congressman, if you had real questions in your mind, if you were concerned enough to at least investigate on your own I’d be sympathetic – but you know exactly what you are doing I’m sure, and you are laying up the treasures of today for an eternity in hell.  You had a chance Mr. CEO but had no courage, no character. 

You’re just petty politicians preying on people hungry for simple answers, for ‘now’ solutions. You’re just greedy corporations lookin’ at the next quarterly report. 

You’re just selling out for the next election….

You’re just selling snake oil for customer selection.


The ages will remember you as traitors to our land,

They’ll burn you each in effigy, they’ll spit upon your grave,

For all destruction soon to come, now artfully denied.

No matter bud, you’ll miss the boat.

Too late.

Not saved.

Buh bye.


And they will march, march, march, yes they will march upon your graves,

You traitors to the earth,

With crazy cries of hopelessness, our anger burning bright,

Unleashed too late to matter,

Won’t cover up the blight.


The hope of all our peoples scattered,

The faith of all our peoples shattered,

The loss of all that really matters,

The innocence of love bespattered.


Beloved early morning rain, blue skies too soon replaced

By barrenness and noxious fumes….our garden spot defaced.


To hell with your economy, next year’s price for gas,

It won’t matter, won’t matter, what ideology, government,

what party takes the White House, what country rules the earth,

When all our vegetation’s gone, all food is chemical,

when clawing, crawling takes the place of heav’n-on-earth,

The vengeance and the wrath of God betrayed

Will rain upon this land,

Divine forgiveness dearth.


And they will march, march, march, yes they’ll march upon your graves,

You traitors to the earth,

With crazy cries of hopelessness, our anger burning bright,

Unleashed too late to matter,

Won’t cover up the blight.

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Photo by Pixabay on

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