Elijah was a preacher's son, but he chose the printing press

To spread the word of brotherhood and fight for those oppressed

But in the age of slavery, battlelines were drawn

A few words, a few words printed ona page

A few words, a few words, no one is a slave

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He fled St. Louis after three attacks, but his work was incomplete

So he set up shop in Illinois, and put his paper on the street

He hid his press behind warehouse walls, but hate will find a way

A few words, a few words printed ona page

A few words, a few words, no one is a slave

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The mob came one night with roches high, and set fire to the roof

They thought if they could smoke him out, the could destroy the truth

Elijah stepped into the night and they shot him where he stood

A few words, a few words printed ona page

A few words, a few words, no one is a slave

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The men were tried and all set free - no one would take the blame

They buried Elijah in an unmarked grave, but time would carve his name

Today Elijah Lovejoy lives, and they're just dust that's blown away

A few words, a few words, can be stronger than the sun

A few words, a few words, and more than many guns

 

Ray Lambiase/vocal, acoustic guitar

Lanny Sichel/acoustic guitar

Kate Corrigan/vocals

Kevin Kelly/bass

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