She was born in a school bus on the Blue Ridge Parkway
Her parents had driven from the San Francisco Bay
It was late December of 1968
The skies was filling with the darkness of hate
Bobby and Martin were long gone
The Flower Children had sung their very last song
Nixon was heading to that big White House
And bombs would soon be dropping on the children of Laos
But a beautiful little girl was born on Christmas day
Away from the madness that had driven them astray
She carried a sparkle right there in her eye
It shined through the night and it filled up the sky
She was raised by hippies
In the hills of Tennessee
Raised by hippies
So wild and so free
Raised by hippies
They did some things wrong
But they raised their children right
And they did it for a song
Her family moved to Chicago in 1982
Reagan was president no one knew what to do
Izods and argyles made her feel strange
She missed the hippie children and their earthy nature names
All the boys fell in love with her on the first day of spring
She went to cla** with no shoes on her feet
But her teachers tried to break her of her hillside hippie ways
They made her sit inside on the sunniest of days
CHORUS
When the Bobs fell on Baghdad
Her daddy wept and raged
Wrote k** Whitey on a rest stop on the Natchez Trace
Oh Daddy don't forget Bobby and Martin up above
Remember the songs you sang in the Summer of Love
Summer of Love
She's all grown up now with kids of her own
She teaches them the songs of her hillside hippie home
And that old school bus is battered but her engine's good and strong
Tomorrow's sun will find us furthur along
The song book is dusty but they/we remember the tune
Her uncle's in the back reading the Chronicles of Dune
CHORUS
Run old Molly run . .