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(learned in the 1960s at Teton Tea Party)

(music to go here)

On the streets of New York City, the hour was getting late,
Young men armed with knives and guns, young men armed with hate,
Lou Marsh stepped up to them, and died there in his track,
For one man is no army when a city turns its back,
    And now the streets are empty, and now the streets are dark,
    So keep an eye on the shadows, and never pass the park,
    For the city is a jungle, when the law is out of sight,
    And death lurks in El Barrio with the orphans of the night.

There were two gangs approaching in Spanish Harlem Town,
The smell of blood was in the air, the challenge was laid down,
And Lou Marsh stepped between them, he tried to save their lives,
But they broke his young body with their fist and feet and knives,
    And now the streets are empty,...

Will Lou Marsh lie forgotten in some cold and lonely grave,
Or will his memory linger on in those he tried to save,
And those of us who knew him may now and then recall,
And shed a tear for poverty, the tombstone of us all,
    And now the streets are empty...

(from miriam berg's folksong collection)