Songs and Poems from the Mothertongue Years

Chorus: Hang in there, baby, hang in.
Hang in there, baby, hang in.
We're like that kitten hanging by her chin;
Gravity's against us, but we don't give in.
Hang in there, kitten, hang in.

Verse 1: We're up against the system,
pollution and the bomb,
anxiety, depression,
and the list goes on.
Hang in there, sister, hang in.

Verse 2: It's hard as women
trying to survive,
but we have hope and courage
while we're still alive.
Hang in there, women, hang in.
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The Process of Consensus Blues

Verse 1: I hate to go to meetings.
Usually they're boring.
Got to work together, though, to get things done.

Chorus: Don't you fret yourself none.
It's sure to take forever.
That's the process of consensus blues.

Verse 2: Women use consensus,
not Robert's Rules of Order,
But sometimes it seems as if they're both the same.

Verse 3: We've got eleven women,
crowded in the front room.
Lots of big decisions are a'comin' down.

Verse 4: Two of us are for it;
two of us against it;
all the other women don't give a damn.

Verse 5: If we block consensus,
will we still be welcome?
Wish we didn't have to, but we feel we must.

Verse 6: All of us are tired;
all of us are cranky;
come on, let's decide so we can go on home.
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Greenham Geese (tune of Dona, Dona)

1 On the commons, Greenham Commons,
lives a flock of unruly geese
trained to honk and flight,
guarding day and night,
so that war isn't stopped by peace.

Chorus: How the geese are laughing.
They laugh with all their might.
Laugh and laugh the whole day through
and half the summer's night.
Dona, dona nobis pacem.
Grant us peace, we pray.
We are here to save the planet.
Greenham camp is here to stay.

2. Geese are easily trained for warfare:
honk alarm, then attack the foe.
Women, drawing near, cut the fence, and hear,
with them, silent, the geese did go.

3. When the roll is called and no geese are found,
major-generals are red of face.
All their well-trained geese, AWOL, and learning peace,
have adopted new friends and place.
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Books

Books are almost as good as friends,
at warming my heart, at making me cry,
at bringing a laugh, or a tear, or a sigh.

They take me away from this world that I know,
make me feel like a child and then help me to grow.

I revel in fiction and marvel at fact,
learn points to debate with, examples of tact.

Humor is good when I'm sick, weak, or blue.
For escape, science fiction will usually do.

Feminist writings may spur me to glory,
but my favorite of all is a women's love story.
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Flowering Fruit Trees

Love is flower-like, they say, and
friendship's like a tree
that shelters one from sun and storm
beneath its canopy.

I will not choose between the two;
I want them both, I say;
a lover's arms to hold me close
and friends with whom to play.

The trick, it seems, to having both
is found in friendship's bower,
where love will come one day, I hope,
when two dear friend-trees flower.