Peter, Paul and Mary
are still hammering their song.
They're pondering the blowing wind
and where have flowers gone.
But Peter, Paul and Walter
are now dead and gone from sight.
I speak of Mr. Jennings,
Mr. Harvey and Cronkite.
That former trio challenges
injustice through their songs.
The latter three remained content
reporting social wrongs.
Their voices were melodic,
most familiar and unique.
Their newscasts were a work of art.
We loved to hear them speak.
But now those voices have been stilled.
We grieve beside their graves.
Like Puff the Magic Dragon,
they have slipped into their caves.
Without those three, it seems to me
the news has lost its fizz.
The greats are gone just like old blooms.
That's just the way it is.