THE PREACHER AND THE SLAVE BY JOE HILL (Tune: “Sweet Bye and Bye”)Long-haired preachers come out every night,Try to tell you what’s wrong and what’s right;But when asked how ’bout something to eatThey will answer with voices so sweet:CHORUS::You will eat, bye and bye,In that glorious land above the sky;Work and pray, live on hay,You’ll… Read More THE PREACHER AND THE SLAVE BY JOE HILL
The little worker ants Never fail to fall For the old sleight of handThe orange magician Mesmerizing with the left Presenting something petty and shinyWhile all the while performing Atrocities, abuse and injustice With the well-greased rightThey cheer and clap With glee and excitement Never seeing the real worldRoy RichardJanuary 2025
(Tune: “There ls Power In the Blood”)Would you have freedom from wage slavery, Then join in the grand Industrial band:Would you from mis’ry and hunger be free, Then come, do your share, like a man.CHORUS:There is pow’r, there is pow’rIn a band of workingmen,When they stand hand in hand,That’s a pow’r that’s a pow’rThat must… Read More THERE IS POWER IN A UNION BY JOE HILL
There are women of many descriptions In this queer world, as everyone knows,Some are living in beautiful mansions, And are wearing the finest of clothes.There are blue-blooded queens and princesses, Who have charms made of diamond and pearl;But the only and thoroughbred lady Is the Rebel GirlChorusThat’s the Rebel Girl, that’s the Rebel Girl!To the… Read More THE REBEL GIRL Words and Music by Joe Hill 1916
Murdered by the Authorities of the State of UtahNovember 19. 1915High head and back unbending—fearless and true,Into the night unending; why was it you?Heart that was quick with song, torn with their lead’Life that was young and strong, shattered and dead.Singer of manly songs, laughter and tears;Singer of Labor’s wrongs, joys, hopes and fears:Though you… Read More JOE HILL by Ralph Chaplin
IT is a marsh, whose sleepy water Lies stagnant, covered with a mantle Of lily-pads and rushes; And at the least noise, the croaking frogs Dive under their light-green cover. To it flies the black and gray snipe When, on a frosty November morning, The bleak north wind blows; Often, from the dark clouds above,… Read More THE MARSH by Théophile Gautier
WARPED . . . gland-dry . . . With spine askew And body shrunken into half its space . Well-used as some cracked paving-stone Bearing on his grimed and pitted front A stamp … as of innumerable feet.
Is it you I see go by the window, Jim Larkin — you not looking at me nor any one, And your shadow swaying from East to West? Strange that you should be walking free — you shut down without light, And your legs tied up with a knot of iron. One hundred million men… Read More TO LARKIN by Lola Ridge
WIND RISING IN THE ALLEYS by Lola RidgeMy spirit lifts in you like a banner streaming free of hot walls. You are full of unspent dreams. . . . You are laden with beginnings. . . . There is hope in you . . . not sweet . . acrid as blood in the mouth.… Read More WIND RISING IN THE ALLEYS by Lola Ridge
CHERRY, cherry, glowing on the hearth, bright red cherry. . . . When you try to pick up cherry Celia’s shriek sticks in you like a pin. When God throws hailstones you cuddle in Celia’s shawl and press your feet on her belly high up like a stool. When Celia makes umbrella of her hand.… Read More Ceila by Lola Ridge
Ramblings of an Old Coot 