48 lines
1.6 KiB
Plaintext
48 lines
1.6 KiB
Plaintext
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WE WILL SING ONE SONG
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by Joe Hill
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(Air: "My Old Kentucky Home")
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We will sing one song of the meek and humble slave,
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The horny-handed son of toil,
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He's toiling hard from the cradle to the grave,
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But his master reaps the profit from his toil.
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Then we'll sing one song of the greedy master class,
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They're vagrants in broadcloth, indeed,
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They live by robbing the ever-toiling mass,
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Human blood they spill to satisfy their greed.
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Chorus
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Organize! Oh, toilers, come organize your might;
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Then we'll sing one song of the workers' commonwealth.
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Full of beauty, full of love and health.
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We will sing one song of the politician sly,
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He's talking of changing the laws;
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Election day all the drinks and smokes he'll buy,
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While we make the welkin ring with our applause.
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Then we'll sing one song of the girl below the line,
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She's scorned and despised everywhere,
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While in their mansions the 'keepers' wine and dine
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From the profits that immoral traffic bear.
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We will sing one song of the preacher, fat and sleek,
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He tells you of homes in the sky.
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He says, "Be generous, be lowly and meek,
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If you don't you'll sure get roasted when you die."
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Then we'll sing one song of the poor and ragged tramp,
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He carries his home on his back;
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We will sing one song of the children in the mills,
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They're taken from the playgrounds and schools,
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In tender years made to go the pace that kills,
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In the sweatshops, 'mong the looms and the spools.
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Then we'll sing one song of the One Big Union Grand,
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The hope of the toiler and slave,
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It's coming fast! it is sweeping sea and land,
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To the terror of the grafter and the knave.
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