The poet Rod McKuen died yesterday at age 81. When I think of McKuen, I always think of the following song, which was sung so beautifully by Mary Travers during her solo period. The words of the song ring true today, and provides something very important to remember as we see battles between black and white, right and poor, immigrant vs native, and all the other divisions of our society:
CHILDREN ONE AND ALL
Rod McKuen
©1968, 1972 Editions Chanson Co.
Some of us live in big white houses
Some of us live in small
Some of our names are written on blackboards
Some are written on walls
Some of our daddies work in factories
Some of them stand in line
Some of our daddies buy us marbles
Some of them just buy wine
But at night you can’t tell Sunday suits
From tattered overalls
But then we’re only children
Children one and all
Some of us take our lunch in boxes
Some in paper sacks
Some of us kids join in the laughter
Some hear it at their backs
Some of our mothers sew fine linen
Some can’t sew a stitch
Some of our mothers dress up poorly
And some of them dress up rich
But at night you can’t tell party dresses
From hand me downs too small
But then we’re only children
Children one and all
Some of us learn our lessons poorly
Some of us learn them well
Some of us find an earthly heaven
Some of us live in hell
Some of us go right on a’preachin’
Without making too much sense
Some of us hide behind a wall
And some behind a fence
But at night you can’t you tell picket fences
From bricks a tower tall
But then we’re only children
Children one and all
Some of us grow up tall and handsome
Some of us grow up plain
Some of us own the world in ransom
Some of us just our name
Some of our people die in misery
Some of them die in peace
Some of our people die for nothing
But dying doesn’t cease
And at night you can’t tell fancy coffins
From boxes in the hall
But then we’re only children
Children one and all
