The Marines Have Landed On The Shores Of

<br>Phil Ochs<br>And the crabs are crazy, they scuttle back and forth, the sand is burning<br>And the fish take flight and scatter from the sight, their courses turning<br>As the seagulls rest on the cold cannon nest, the sea is churning.<br>The marines have landed on the shores of Santo Domingo.<br>The fishermen sweat, they`re pausing at their nets, the day`s a-burning<br>As the warships sway and thunder in the bay, loud the morning.<br>But the boy on the shore is throwing pebbles no more, he runs a-warning<br>That the the marines have landed on the shores of Santo Domingo.<br>The streets are still, there`s silence in the hills, the town is sleeping<br>And the farmers yawn in the grey silver dawn, the fields they`re keeping<br>As the first troops land and step into the sand, the flags are weaving.<br>The marines have landed on the shores of Santo Domingo.<br>The unsmiling sun is shining down upon the singing soldiers<br>In the cloud dust whirl they whistle at the girls, they`re getting bolder<br>The old women sigh, think of memories gone by, they shrug their shoulders.<br>The marines have landed on the shores of Santo Domingo.<br>Ready for the tricks, their bayonets are fixed, now they are rolling<br>And the tanks make tracks past the trembling shacks where fear`s unfolding<br>All the young wives afraid, turn their backs to the parade with babes they`re holding<br>The marines have landed on the shores of Santo Domingo<br>A bullet cracks the sound, the army hit the ground, the sniper`s callin`<br>So they open their guns, a thousand to one, no sense in stalling<br>He clutches at his head and totters on the edge, look now he`s falling<br>The marines have landed on the shores of Santo Domingo<br>In the red plaza square, the crowds come to stare, the heat is leaning<br>And the eyes of the dead are turning every head to the widows screaming<br>But the soldiers make a bid, giving candy to the kids, their teeth are gleaming<br>The marines have landed on the shores of Santo Domingo<br>Up and down the coast, the generals drink a toast, the wheel is spinning<br>And the cowards and the whores are peeking through the doors to see who`s winning<br>But the traitors will pretend that it`s getting near the end, when it`s beginning<br>The marines have landed on the shores of Santo Domingo<br>And the crabs are crazy, they scuttle back and forth, the sand is burning<br>And the fish take flight and scatter from the sight, their courses turning<br>As the seagulls rest on the cold cannon nest, the sea is churning<br>The marines have landed on the shores of Santo Domingo