Текст Phil Ochs – Santo Domingo

And the crabs are crazy, they scuttle back and forth, the sand is burning
And the fish take flight and scatter from the sight, their courses turning
As the seagulls rest on the cold cannon nest, the sea is churning
The marines have landed on the shores of Santo Domingo

The fishermen sweat, they’re pausing at their nets, the day’s a-burning
As the warships sway and thunder in the bay, loud the morning
But the boy on the shore is throwing pebbles no more, he runs a-warning
That the the marines have landed on the shores of Santo Domingo

The streets are still, there’s silence in the hills, the town is sleeping
And the farmers yawn in the grey silver dawn, the fields they’re keeping
As the first troops land and step into the sand, the flags are weaving
The marines have landed on the shores of Santo Domingo

The unsmiling sun is shining down upon the singing soldiers
In the cloud dust whirl they whistle at the girls, they’re getting bolder
The old women sigh, think of memories gone by, they shrug their shoulders
The marines have landed on the shores of Santo Domingo

Ready for the tricks, their bayonets are fixed, now they are rolling
And the tanks make tracks past the trembling shacks where fear’s unfolding
All the young wives afraid, turn their backs to the parade with babes they’re holding
The marines have landed on the shores of Santo Domingo

A bullet cracks the sound, the army hit the ground, the sniper’s callin’
So they open their guns, a thousand to one, no sense in stalling
He clutches at his head and totters on the edge, look now he’s falling
The marines have landed on the shores of Santo Domingo

In the red plaza square, the crowds come to stare, the heat is leaning
And the eyes of the dead are turning every head to the widows screaming
But the soldiers make a bid, giving candy to the kids, their teeth are gleaming
The marines have landed on the shores of Santo Domingo

Up and down the coast, the generals drink a toast, the wheel is spinning
And the cowards and the whores are peeking through the doors to see who’s winning

And the crabs are crazy, they scuttle back and forth, the sand is burning
And the fish take flight and scatter from the sight, their courses turning
As the seagulls rest on the cold cannon nest, the sea is churning
The marines have landed on the shores of Santo Domingo