Born A Little Late

I was four years old in nineteen-sixty-nine
When everybody had their thing and I had mine
There were some people smoking weed, there were some others doing speed
But I was way big into raisins at the time

And now I'm all grown up and I'm a-writing a-folky songs
But there are people telling me that I don't belong
These folk music consumers are Birkenstock-ed baby boomers
They say, "You're way too young and you dress completely wrong"

They say, "You showed up just in time to miss the boat
You slept right through our rendezvous with fate
And though we're getting old and grey we still can gloat
Must be a thorn to have been born a little late"
That's what they say

Yes they were all at Yasgur's farm in 'sixty-nine
They all made love to Country Joe and Johnny Prine
And every one of them adored young Bonnie Raitt
They love to tell me I was born a little late

And at folk festivals I've seen them a-hanging around
I've seen them having sex and sleeping on the ground
They'll all be sitting around the campfire singing Beatles and The Byrds
And then they laugh at me 'cos I don't know the words

And they say, "You showed up just in time to miss the boat
Yes you slept right through our rendezvous with fate
And though we're getting old and grey we still can gloat
Must be a thorn to have been born a little late"
Rub it in now

I get upset about Social Security
It's like the government just steals my cash away
'Cos by the time I'm sixty-three there won't be nothing left for me
When all the boomers have retired and bought a house in Santa Fe

And they'll say, "You showed up just in time to miss the boat
Yes you slept right through our rendezvous with fate
And though we're getting old and grey we still can gloat
Must be a thorn to have been born a little late"
Yes indeed, must be a thorn to have been born a little late