If Those Walls Could Talk
A traditional folk song that illustrates four rooms where famous Americans wrestled with the ideal of "All men are created equal" and the fallout from their decisions.
Each room depicted STILL EXISTS and they are all open to the public today. Road trip?
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Lyrics
© Jim Molinelli
[Verse 1]
They both sat one late-June night, in City-Tavern's corner booth,
Two friends face to face, the elder statesman and the youth.
Tom pushed the parchment across the wood, and Ben took up the page.
A declaration of freedom, by this young man half his age.
There were some lines about bondage, he went through them in his mind...
He dipped his quill in ink, and scratched out each equality line.
“Tom, it just won’t work yet. I think you know that, in your heart.
I agree it should be in there. But with freedom is where we'll start”...
[Chorus]
Oh, if those walls could talk…
Would they name men and moments... or the questions that remain?
If one cannot resolve the Promise… the next inherits pain...
Oh, if those walls could talk…
[Verse 2]
He stands at his desk and recites a key phrase from his page.
“...all men are created equal”, a line he borrowed from the sage.
He paces past the hearth, finds the local paper on a chair.
Whose headline shouts that more than 50,000 men died there.
He ponders if this costly war will even make a dent.
David Wills knocks and hands a telegram to the President:
“Support for Proclamation Wanes“. He drops the cable on the floor.
He walks over to the window, as one tear falls, and then one more...
[Chorus]
Oh, if those walls could talk…
Would they name men and moments... or the questions that remain?
If one cannot resolve the Promise… the next inherits pain...
Oh, if those walls could talk…
[Verse 3]
It was the Gray, who arrived first, on that dismal April day,
Lee and his aid were shown inside, to the parlor where they wait.
Then the Blue came thunderin' in, each one splashed with mud,
Abaout a half an hour late, each man dismounts with a thud.
Boots echoed on the wooden floor, as they approached and shook.
Soon after that, Grant wrote down terms. About two hours it took.
Both men knew what was written, and what was left unsaid.
They signed in the Virginia silence, and went to tend to their dead...
[Chorus]
Oh, if those walls could talk…
Would they name men and moments... or the questions that remain?
If one cannot resolve the Promise… the next inherits pain...
Oh, if those walls could talk…
[Verse 4]
He climbs the wooden steps, of the ancient restaurant,
“Mr. President your table’s ready, anytime you want”.
He lays down the Sunday papers, slides into booth 18.
He enjoys his cup of chowder, reading papers in between.
Then drops his spoon and looks again, disbelief when he sees...
Attack dogs and fire hoses, aimed at black kids on their knees.
He thumps his fist and wonders “does this all come down to me?”
“We’re not the country we say we are… if this is what they see...”
[Chorus]
Oh, if those walls could talk…
Would they name men and moments... or the questions that remain?
If one cannot resolve the Promise… the next inherits pain...
Oh... if those walls could talk…
Oh... if those walls could talk…
