Phil Ochs - from the optimism of youth, to disillusion and suicide.

Boy In Ohio
By Phil Ochs

G C G
Creek was running by the road
D
And the Buckeye sun was a-shinin'
G C G
I rode my bike down Alum Creek Drive
Em Am
When I was a boy in Ohio

G C G
The English teacher he didn't care
F
He challenged us to checkers
Bb Dm D7
And once in a while we'd swap a joke
Eb
When I was a boy in Ohio

Once I was caught playing hooky from school
They found me home in the evening
I confessed I had been to the movie show
When I was a boy in Ohio

We would wait for the summer to come
For swimmin' and pickin' berries
But now a freeway covers the field
Where I used to be so happy

I remember the Burger Boy
Where the girls would shine like the engines
And the radio was always loud
When I was a boy in Ohio

Spanish teacher she tried to help
She was much too pretty
So I just stared at the back of her legs
When I was a boy in Ohio

It was 3.2 beer* at the honky tonk bar
Where they said the girls were easy
But somehow I never found me one
When I was a boy in Ohio

Soon I was grown and I had to leave
And I've been all over the country
But I don't believe I've had more fun
Than when I was a boy in Ohio.

This was his farewell message to his daughter. What a terrible, terrible tragedy.

Rehearsals for Retirement
By Phil Ochs


A G D A
The days grow longer for smaller prizes
A G D A
I feel a stranger to all surprises
Bm E A
You can have them I don't want them
C#m D
I wear a different kind of garment
F#m E
In my rehearsals for retirement

The lights are cold again they dance below me
I turn to old friends they do not know me
All but the beggar he remembers
I put a penny down for payment
In my rehearsals for retirement

D A - A7
Had I known the end would end in laughter
F#m E
I tell my daughter it doesn't matter

The stage is tainted with empty voices
The ladies painted they have no choices
I take my colors from the stable
They lie in tatters by the tournament
In my rehearsals for retirement

Where are the armies who killed a country
And turned a strong man into a baby
No comes the rabble they are welcome
I wait in anger and amusement
In my rehearsals for retirement

Had I known the end would end in laughter
Still I tell my daughter that it doesn't matter

Farewell my own true love, farewell my fancy
Are you still owin' me love, though you failed me
But one last gesture for her pleasure
I'll paint your memory on the monument
In my rehearsals for retirement

Here is a young boy who can not cope with what was happening to the cray world around him. His constant links to, "painted ladies", were about the exploitation of women, long before the 60's feminist revolution. Purest poetry and art.

Gord.