About the song
Creedence Clearwater Revival’s “Fortunate Son” is a powerful anthem that became emblematic of the anti-establishment sentiment during the Vietnam War era. Released in 1969 as part of their album “Willy and the Poor Boys,” the song was written by CCR’s lead vocalist and songwriter, John Fogerty.
“Fortunate Son” is characterized by its raw, gritty sound and socially charged lyrics that criticize the privilege and hypocrisy of those born into wealth and privilege, yet avoid military service and its hardships. The song’s message resonated deeply during a time of social upheaval and protest in the United States, reflecting the frustration and anger of young people who felt marginalized by the system.
Despite its controversial themes, “Fortunate Son” became a commercial success for Creedence Clearwater Revival, reaching number 14 on the Billboard Hot 100 chart in the United States. Its impact extended beyond chart success, becoming an anthem for the counterculture movement and a rallying cry against social inequality and political injustice.
Over the years, “Fortunate Son” has maintained its relevance and influence, often cited in discussions about protest music and its role in shaping public opinion. Its straightforward lyrics and powerful guitar-driven melody continue to resonate with listeners, ensuring its place as one of CCR’s most enduring and iconic songs.
Creedence Clearwater Revival’s “Fortunate Son” stands as a testament to the band’s ability to blend rock, folk, and protest elements into a potent musical statement. Its legacy as a critique of privilege and inequality remains relevant, making it a timeless piece of American rock music history that continues to inspire and provoke thought.
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Lyrics
Some folks are born made to wave the flag
Hoo, they’re red, white and blue
And when the band plays “Hail to the chief”
Ooh, they point the cannon at you, Lord
It ain’t me, it ain’t me
I ain’t no senator’s son, son
It ain’t me, it ain’t me
I ain’t no furtunate one, no
Some folks are born silver spoon in hand
Lord, don’t they help themselves, Lord?
But when the taxman come to the door
Lord, the house lookin’ like a rummage sale, yeah
It ain’t me, it ain’t me
I ain’t no millionaire’s son, no, no
It ain’t me, it ain’t me
I ain’t no fortunate one, no
Yeah-yeah, some folks inherit star-spangled eyes
Hoo, they send you down to war, Lord
And when you ask ’em, “How much should we give?”
Hoo, they only answer, “More, more, more, more”
It ain’t me, it ain’t me
I ain’t no military son, son, Lord
It ain’t me, it ain’t me
I ain’t no fortunate one, one
It ain’t me, it ain’t me
I ain’t no fortunate one, no, no, no
It ain’t me, it ain’t me
I ain’t no fortunate son, no, no, no
It ain’t me, it ain’t me…