Never forget.

Look out, look out from your schoolroom window!
Look up, young children, from your play!
Wave your hand at the shining airplane,
Such a beautiful sight is Enola Gay.

High above the clouds in the sunlit silence,
So peaceful here, I'd like to stay.
There's many a pilot who'd swap his pension
For a chance to fly Enola Gay.

What is that sound high above my city?
I rush outside and search the sky.
Now we are running to find the shelters,
Hearing sirens start to cry.

What will I say when my children ask me,
Where was I flying up on that day?
With trembling voice I gave the order
To the bombardier of Enola Gay.

Look out, look out from your schoolroom window;
Look up, young children, from your play.
Your bright young eyes will turn to ashes
In the blinding light of Enola Gay.

I turn to see the fireball rising.
"My God, My God," all I can say.
I hear a voice within me crying,
"My mother's name was Enola Gay."

Look out, look out from your schoolroom window;
Look up, young children, from your play.
Oh, when you see the warplanes flying,
Each one is named Enola Gay.

Utah Phillips

Never again.

RIP.

Bruce "Utah" Phillips



Sometimes in a dream I sit by a tree
My life is a book of how things used to be
And the kids gather 'round and they listen to me
They don't think I'm all used up

And there's songs and there's laughter and things I can do
And all that I've learned I can give back to you
And I'd give my last breath just to make it come true
And to know I'm not all used up

Never, Utah. You've left songs to sing and stories to tell and tell again. That legacy will never be used up.

Hat tip to The Minstrel Boy.