Goodbye Molly Ivins

There’s a party today on the Freedom Bus in Heaven
There always is.

There’s no need for a Freedom Bus there, of course,
Who cares about skin color when the flesh is clay?
No one worries who you love,
Or what you think,
And there’s nothing to vote against anyway.

But the old rabble-rousers never were much
For folded hands and peaceful harps.
They like to reminisce about their fighting days,
John Henry Faulk never mentions Hee-Haw here
But Phil Ochs and Fred Hellerman
Bring their guitars every day.
In rowdier moods, Martin and Malcolm
Invent off-color lyrics for “We Shall Overcome”.

Some of the old oldtimers come by
When it’s a special day:
Biko, Socrates, Abby and John,
Jara and old Mother Jones.
Here when they sing it’s for joy.

Today, it’s Austin music. Woody’s learned
“Lone Star State of Mind”,
but Lomax sticks with “Cotton-Eyed Joe”,
An unknown chef who once on a time
Served all comers at his lunch counter
Prepares his special bobbycue,
Famous now as it deserves to be.
“Molly’s comin’ up,” they say
“Got to make her feel to home.”

They’ll show her how to look down
And see how the fight is going
To put a bit of heart in those who follow
And stir up some mischief now and then.
Because God knows (really)
That some people can’t be happy in Heaven
If they can’t raise some Hell now and then.