Come all you good workers,

[ET Awful]

Good news to you I'll tell
Of how the good old union
Has come in here to dwell.

Which side are you on?
Which side are you on?

My dady was a miner,
And I'm a miner's son,
And I'll stick with the union
'Til every battle's won.

Which side are you on?
Which side are you on?

They say in Harlan County
There are no neutrals there.
You'll either be a union man
Or a thug for J. H. Blair.

Which side are you on?
Which side are you on?

Oh workers can you stand it?
Oh tell me how you can?
Will you be a lousy scab
Or will you be a man?

Which side are you on?
Which side are you on?

Don't scab for the bosses,
Don't listen to their lies.
Us poor folks haven't got a chance
Unless we organize.

[rug]

1. 16 tons and what do you get

another day older and deeper in debt.

[Deep13]

2. On a similar note:

Union Maid
A Song by Woody Guthrie
© 1961 Ludlow Music Inc.
There once was a union maid
She never was afraid
Of goons and ginks and company finks
And the deputy sheriffs who made the raid
She went to the union hall
When a meeting it was called
And when the company boys came round
She always stood her ground

Chorus
Oh, you can't scare me, I'm sticking to the union
I'm sticking to the union,I'm sticking to the union
Oh, you can't scare me, I'm sticking to the union
I'm sticking to the union till the day I die

This union maid was wise
To the tricks of company spies
She couldn't be fooled by a company stools
She'd always organize the guys
SheÕd always get her way
When she struck for higher pay
She'd show her card to the National Guard
And this is what she'd say

You girls who want to be free
Just take a tip from me
Get you a man who's a union man
And join the Ladies Auxiliary
Married life ain't hard
When you've got a union card
And a union man has a happy life
When he's got a union wife

Updated verse from the 1980's

You women who want to be free
Just take a little tip from me
Break out of that mold we've all been sold
You got a fighting history
The fight for women's rights
With workers must unite
Like Mother Jones, bestir them bones
To the front of every fight

Notes
Last verse taken from Carry It On! a songbook by Pete Seeger and Bob Reiser

[ET Awful]

4. Howsabout . . .

Now, if you want higher wages let me tell you what to do
You got to talk to the workers in the shop with you.
You got to build you a union, got to make it strong,
But if you all stick together, boys, it won't be long.
You get shorter hours, better working conditions,
Vacations with pay. Take your kids to the seashore.

It ain't quite this simple, so I better explain
Just why you got to ride on the union train.
'Cause if you wait for the boss to raise your pay,
We'll all be a-waitin' 'til Judgment Day.
We'll all be buried, gone to heaven,
St. Peter'll be the straw boss then.

Now you know you're underpaid but the boss says you ain't;
He speeds up the work 'til you're 'bout to faint.
You may be down and out, but you ain't beaten,
You can pass out a leaflet and call a meetin'.
Talk it over, speak your mind,
Decide to do somethin' about it.

Course, the boss may persuade some poor damn fool
To go to your meetin' and act like a stool.
But you can always tell a stool, though, that's a fact,
He's got a yaller streak a-runnin' down his back.
He doesn't have to stool, he'll always get along
On what he takes out of blind men's cups.

You got a union now, and you're sittin' pretty,
Put some of the boys on the steering committee.
The boss won't listen when one guy squawks,
But he's got to listen when the union talks.
He'd better, be mighty lonely
Everybody decide to walk out on him.

Suppose they're working you so hard it's just outrageous
And they're paying you all starvation wages.
You go to the boss and the boss would yell,
"Before I raise your pay I'd see you all in hell."
Well, he's puffing a big seegar, feeling mighty slick
'Cause he thinks he's got your union licked.
Well, he looks out the window and what does he see
But a thousand pickets, and they all agree:
He's a bastard, unfair, slavedriver,
Bet he beats his wife!

Now, boys, you've come to the hardest time.
The boss will try to bust your picket line.
He'll call out the police, the National Guard,
They'll tell you it's a crime to have a union card.
They'll raid your meetin', they'll hit you on the head,
They'll call every one of you a goddam red,
Unpatriotic, Japanese spies, sabotaging national defense!

But out at Ford, here's what they found,
And out at Vultee, here's what they found,
And out at Allis-Chalmers, here's what they found,
And down at Bethlehem, here's what they found:
That if you don't let red-baiting break you up,
And if you don't let stoolpigeons break you up,
And if you don't let vigilantes break you up,
And if you don't let race hatred break you up,
You'll win. What I mean is, take it easy, but take it!

[Deep13]

3. Can't forget Joe Hill.

The Preacher and the Slave
play mp3

A Song by Joe Hill

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 eat
They 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 get pie in the sky when you die

And the starvation army they play
And they sing and they clap and they pray
Till they get all your coin on the drum
Then they tell you when you are on the bum

If you fight hard for children and wife
Try to get something good in this life
You're a sinner and bad man, they tell
When you die you will sure go to hell

Workingmen of all countries unite
Side by side we for freedom will fight
When the world and its wealth we have gained
To the grafters we'll sing this refrain

Last Chorus

You will eat, bye and bye
When you've learned how to cook and to fry
Chop some wood, 'twill do you good
And you'll eat in the sweet bye and bye


Notes
From the IWW Songbook 1911 Edition Tune "In the Sweet Bye and Bye"
Many thanks to Bill Berry for permission to add this track from his 2004 CD "Bill Berry sweep of an eager pen" to the Union Songs collection.

[ET Awful]

6. I dreamed I saw Joe Hill last night, alive as you or me.

Says I, "But Joe, you're ten years dead,"
"I never died," says he
"I never died," says he

"In Salt Lake, Joe," says I to him,
Him standing by my bed,
"They framed you on a murder charge,"
Says Joe, "But I ain't dead,"
Says Joe, "But I ain't dead."

"The copper bosses killed you, Joe,
They shot you, Joe," says I.
"Takes more than guns to kill a man,"
Says Joe, "I didn't die,"
Says Joe, "I didn't die."

And standing there as big as life
And smiling with his eyes
Says Joe, "What they forgot to kill
Went on to organize,
Went on to organize."

"Joe Hill ain't dead," he says to me,
"Joe Hill ain't never died.
Where working men are out on strike
Joe Hill is at their side,
Joe Hill is at their side."

"From San Diego up to Maine,
In every mine and mill,
Where workers strike and organize,"
Says he, "You'll find Joe Hill,"
Says he, "You'll find Joe Hill."

I dreamed I saw Joe Hill last night,
Alive as you or me
Says I, "But Joe, you're ten years dead,"
"I never died," says he
"I never died," says he

[Deep13]

7. cool nm

[Deep13]

5. International, French w/ English translation

The Internationale
Words by Eugene Pottier (Paris 1871)
Music by Pierre Degeyter (1888)
Arrangement by Jerry Engelbach (2001)
The Internationale (over 40 versions)

Debout, les damnªs de la terre
Debout, les for°ats de la faim
La raison tonne en son crat¿re
C'est l'ªruption de la faim
Du passª faisons table rase
Foule esclave, debout, debout
Le monde va changer de base
Nous ne sommes rien, soyons tout

C'est la lutte finale
Groupons nous et demain
L'Internationnale
Sera le genre humain

Il n'est pas de sauveurs supr¹mes
Ni Dieu, ni Cªsar, ni Tribun
Producteurs, sauvons-nous nous-m¹mes
Dªcr¿tons le salut commun
Pour que le voleur rende gorge
Pour tirer l'esprit du cachot
Souflons nous-m¹me notre force
Battons du fer tant qu'il est chaud

L'Etat comprime et la Loi triche
L'impüt saigne le malheureux
Nul devoir ne s'impose au riche
Le droit du pauvre est un mot creux
C'est assez languir en tutelle
L'Egalitª veut d'autres lois
"Pas de droits sans devoirs, dit-elle
Egaux pas de devoirs sans droits"

Hideux dans leur apothªose
Les rois de la mine et du rail
Ont-ils jamais fait autre chose
Que dªvaliser le travail?
Dans les coffres-forts de la banque
Ce qu'il a crªe s'est fondu
En dªcrªtant qu'on le lui rende
Le peuple ne veut que son dÊ

Les rois nous saoÊlaient de fumªe
Paix entre nous , guerre aux Tyrans
Appliquons la gr¿ve aux armªes
Crosse en l'air et rompons les rangs
S'ils s'obstinent ces cannibales
A faire de nous des hªros
Ils sauront bientüt que nos balles
Sont pour nos propres gªnªraux

Ouvriers, paysans, nous sommes
Le grand parti des travailleurs
La terre n'appartient qu'aux hommes
L'oisif ira loger aileur
Combien de nos chairs se repaissent
Mais si les corbeaux, les vautours
Un de ces matins disparaissent
Le soleil brillera toujours

English version
Arise ye workers from your slumbers
Arise ye prisoners of want
For reason in revolt now thunders
And at last ends the age of cant
Away with all your superstitions
Servile masses arise, arise
We'll change henceforth the old tradition
And spurn the dust to win the prize

Chorus
So comrades, come rally
And the last fight let us face
The Internationale unites the human race
So comrades, come rally
And the last fight let us face
The Internationale unites the human race

No more deluded by reaction
On tyrants only we'll make war
The soldiers too will take strike action
They'll break ranks and fight no more
And if those cannibals keep trying
To sacrifice us to their pride
They soon shall hear the bullets flying
We'll shoot the generals on our own side

No saviour from on high delivers
No faith have we in prince or peer
Our own right hand the chains must shiver
Chains of hatred, greed and fear
E'er the thieves will out with their booty
And give to all a happier lot
Each at the forge must do their duty
And we'll strike while the iron is hot

Notes
The Internationale was written to celebrate the Paris Commune of March-May 1871: the first time workers took state power into their own hands. They established in the Commune a form of government more democratic than ever seen before. Representatives were mandated on policy questions by their electors, they were recallable at any time and were paid wages that reflected those of their constituents. Marx's Civil War in France is a contemporary account of the history and significance of the Commune. The Commune was drowned in blood by the conservative French government in Versailles, cheered on by the ruling classes of the world. The words were written by poet Eugene Pottier one of Communards who was killed and the music by was written by his friend the composer Pierre Degeyter in 1888.