We've watched them leaving, seen their ragged flight Children of the jungle, mothers of the night A boy of ten by the roadside lies Hears his future in whispers and cries And clutching a tiny Buddha charm A baby dies in his mother's arms Is there only sorrow in Cambodia? Is there no tomorrow in Cambodia? Leaving the graves of your ancestors after a thousand years Leaving a few belongings after a thousand tears How come you never left before through bombing, famine and flood? Are the rivers useless now spilling over with blood? Is there only sorrow in Cambodia? Is there no tomorrow in Cambodia? I hear there are very few children from ages one to five It takes more than jungle leaves to keep the young ones alive I hear some of the rice got through the outside's trying to send to you There you sit in the ruins of war, the doctors are waiting at your door And we will try and feed you, try and go to you People of Kampuchea, Cambodia A little way in from the border in the crowded camps I've seen mothers giving birth, seen beautiful orphans dance An old man turns and covers his eyes, he was never supposed to cry With sons and daughters and home and wife Taken from him in his autumn life Should we try and feed you, say hello to you Old man of Kampuchea, Kampuchea, Cambodia Call another conference, write another song
https://primoaccordo.net/joan-baez/cambodia.htm