And the rest of those hop barons are all feeling mighty blue.
Oh, we've tied up all their hop fields, and the scabs refuse to come,
And we're going to keep on striking till we put them on the bum.
Till we put them on the bum, till we put them on the bum,
We're going to keep on striking till we put them on the bum.
Now, we've got to stick together, boys, and strive with all our might,
We must free Ford and Suhr, boys, we've got to win this fight.
From these scissor bill hop barons we are taking no more bluff,
We'll pick no more damned hops for them, for overalls and snuff,
For our overalls and snuff, for our overalls and snuff,
We'll pick no more damned hops for them, for overalls and snuff.
DON'T TAKE MY PAPA AWAY FROM ME
Words and Music by Joe Hill
(Written just before his execution)
A little girl with her father stayed, in a cabin across the sea,
Her mother dear in the cold grave lay; with her father she'd always be—
But then one day the great war broke out and the father was told to go;
The little girl pleaded—her father she needed.
She begged, cried and pleaded so:
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