Escrita por
Bob Dylan, foi gravada em 7 de agosto de 1963 e lançada no album The times they
are a-changing, em 13 de janeiro de 1964. Trata do assassinato do ativista dos
direitos civis Medgar Evers. A canção sugere que o assassino de Evers não agiu
por ele mesmo e que ele foi apenas uma marionete na mao das elites brancas que
influenciavam os brancos pobres contra os negros para distrai-los de suas
posicoes de buchas de canhão.
Dylan totou
Only a pawn in their game pela primeira vez numa manifestacao num dia de
registro de voto em Greenwood, Mississipi. Medgar Evars era o lider da NAACP de
Mississipi. Bernice Johnson, uma ativista dos direitos civis, disse que essa
canção foi a primeira vez que um branco pobre foi tao vitimizado quanto um
pobre preto.
As pessoas
de Greenwood não sabiam que Bob Dylan, Pete Seeger e Theodore Bikel eram
pessoas famosas, apenas ficaram felizes por eles estarem ali os ajudando.
Bob Dylan
cantou essa música em 1963 na Marcha de Washington para empregos e liberdade,
onde Martin Luther King fez seu famoso discurso I have a dream.
A
letra:
A finger fired the trigger to his name
A handle hid out in the dark
A hand set the spark
Two eyes took the aim
Behind a man's brain
But he can't be blamed
He's only a pawn in their game.
A South politician preaches to the poor white man
"You got more than blacks, don't complain
You're better than them, you been born with white skin" they explain
And the Negro's name
Is used it is plain
For the politician's gain
As he rises to fame
And the poor white remains
On the caboose of the train
But it ain't him to blame
He's only a pawn in their game.
The deputy sheriffs, the soldiers, the governors get paid
And the marshals and cops get the same
But the poor white man's used in the hands of them all like a tool
He's taught in his school
From the start by the rule
That the laws are with him
To protect his white skin
To keep up his hate
So he never thinks straight
'Bout the shape that he's in
But it ain't him to blame
He's only a pawn in their game.
From the powerty shacks, he looks from the cracks to the tracks
And the hoof beats pound in his brain
And he's taught how to walk in a pack
Shoot in the back
With his fist in a clinch
To hang and to lynch
To hide 'neath the hood
To kill with no pain
Like a dog on a chain
He ain't got no name
But it ain't him to blame
He's only a pawn in their game.
Today, Medgar Evers was buried from the bullet he caught
They lowered him down as a king
But when the shadowy sun sets on the one
That fired the gun
He'll see by his grave
On the stone that remains
Carved next to his name
His epitaph plain:
Only a pawn in their game.
A versao de Matt Wenger de Only a pawn in their game:
A versao de Citizen warm:
A versao de Alex Taylor:
