About the song
Let’s explore one of the most iconic protest songs of the 1960s, “Fortunate Son” by Creedence Clearwater Revival. Written by the band’s lead vocalist and guitarist, John Fogerty, this hard-hitting track became an anthem for the anti-war movement during the Vietnam War era.
“Fortunate Son” was released in 1969 as part of Creedence Clearwater Revival’s album “Willy and the Poor Boys.” The album itself was a commercial success, reaching #3 on the Billboard 200 chart in the United States and earning critical acclaim for its gritty, rootsy sound. “Fortunate Son,” with its blistering guitar riffs and scathing lyrics, quickly emerged as one of the standout tracks on the album.
While “Fortunate Son” did not achieve chart-topping success upon its initial release, it has since become one of Creedence Clearwater Revival’s most enduring and impactful songs. Its message of social injustice and inequality struck a chord with audiences, particularly those disillusioned by the political climate of the time.
At its core, “Fortunate Son” is a blistering critique of privilege and class disparity, with lyrics that condemn the hypocrisy of wealthy individuals who avoid military service while working-class Americans are sent off to fight and die in war. The song’s powerful message, combined with its infectious melody and driving rhythm, solidified its place as a timeless anthem for social change.
As you listen to “Fortunate Son,” let yourself be transported back to a turbulent period in American history, where Creedence Clearwater Revival’s music served as a rallying cry for a generation demanding justice and equality.
Video
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…