She was born in a school bus on the Blue Ridge Parkway

Her parents had driven from the San Francisco Bay

It was late December of 1968

The skies was filling with the darkness of hate

Bobby and Martin were long gone

The Flower Children had sung their very last song

Nixon was heading to that big White House

And bombs would soon be dropping on the children of Laos

But a beautiful little girl was born on Christmas day

Away from the madness that had driven them astray

She carried a sparkle right there in her eye

It shined through the night and it filled up the sky

She was raised by hippies

In the hills of Tennessee

Raised by hippies

So wild and so free

Raised by hippies

They did some things wrong

But they raised their children right

And they did it for a song

Her family moved to Chicago in 1982

Reagan was president no one knew what to do

Izods and argyles made her feel strange

She missed the hippie children and their earthy nature names

All the boys fell in love with her on the first day of spring

She went to class with no shoes on her feet

But her teachers tried to break her of her hillside hippie ways

They made her sit inside on the sunniest of days

CHORUS

When the Bobs fell on Baghdad

Her daddy wept and raged

Wrote Kill Whitey on a rest stop on the Natchez Trace

Oh Daddy don’t forget Bobby and Martin up above

Remember the songs you sang in the Summer of Love

Summer of Love

She’s all grown up now with kids of her own

She teaches them the songs of her hillside hippie home

And that old school bus is battered but her engine’s good and strong

Tomorrow’s sun will find us furthur along

The song book is dusty but they/we remember the tune

Her uncle’s in the back reading the Chronicles of Dune

CHORUS

Run old Molly run . .