Tom Russell - East of Woodstock, West of Viet Nam lyrics

I slept through the Nineteen Sixties, I heard Dory Previn say But me I caught me the great white bird, to the shores of Africay Where I lost my adolescent heart, to the sound of a talking drum Yeah, East of Woodstock, West of Vietnam And on the roads outside Oshogbo, Lord I fell down on my knees There were female spirits in old mud huts, iron bells ringing up in the trees And an eighty-year-old white priest, she made juju all night long Yeah, East of Woodstock, West of Vietnam Raise high the roof beams carpenter boy, yeah were coming through the rye In the cinema I saw the man on the moon, I laughed so hard I cried It was somewhere in those rainy seasons, that I learned to carve my song Yeah, East of Woodstock, West of Vietnam Oh Africa, Mother Africa, you lay heavy on my breast You old cradle of civilization, heart of darkness blood and d**h Though we had to play you running scared, when the crocodile ate the sun Yeah, East of Woodstock, West of Vietnam Well I think its going to rain tonight, I can smell it coming off the sea As I sit here reading old Graham Greene I taste Africa on every page Then I close my eyes and see those red clay roads, and its sundown and boys Im gone Yeah, East of Woodstock, West of Vietnam Raise high the roof beams carpenter boy, yeah were coming through the rye It was a moveable feast of war and memory, a dark old lullaby It was the smoke of a thousand camp fires, it was the wrong end of a gun, Yeah, East of Woodstock, West of Vietnam. Yeah, East of Woodstock, West of Vietnam