Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Joe Hill, artist - Phil Ochs. Album song An Introduction To Phil Ochs, in the genre
Date of issue: 31.12.2002
Record label: Universal Music Operations
Song language: English
Joe Hill |
Joe Hill come over from Sweden shores |
Looking for some work to do |
And the Statue of Liberty waved him by |
As Joe come a sailing through, Joe Hill |
As Joe come a sailing through |
Oh his clothes were coarse and his hopes were high |
As he headed for the promised land |
And it took a few weeks on the out-of-work streets |
Before he began to understand |
Before he began to understand |
And Joe got hired by a bowery bar |
Sweeping up the saloon |
As his rag would sail over the baroom rail |
Sounded like he whistled on a tune |
You could almost hear him whistling on a tune |
And Joe rolled on from job to job |
From the docks to the railroad line |
And no matter how hungry the hand that wrote |
In his letters he was always doing fine |
In his letters he was always doing fine |
Oh, the years went by like the sun goin' down |
Slowly turn the page |
And when Joe looked back at the sweat upon his tracks |
He had nothing to show but his age |
He had nothing to show but his age |
So he headed out for the California shore |
There things were just as bad |
So he joined the Industrial Workers of the World |
'Cause, the union was the only friend he had |
'Cause, the union was the only friend he had |
Now the strikes were bloody and the strikes were black |
As hard as they were long |
In the dark of night Joe would stay awake and write |
In the morning he would raise them with a song |
In the morning he would raise them with a song |
And he wrote his words to the tunes of the day |
To be passed along the union vine |
And the strikes were led and the songs were spread |
And Joe Hill was always on the line |
Yes, Joe Hill was always on the line |
Now in Salt Lake City a murder was made |
There was hardly a clue to find |
Oh, the proof was poor, but the sheriff was sure |
Joe was the killer of the crime |
That Joe was the killer of the crime |
Joe raised his hands but they shot him down |
He had nothing but guilt to give |
It’s a doctor I need and they left him to bleed |
He made it 'cause he had the will to live |
Yes, he made it 'cause he had the will to live |
Then the trial was held in a building of wood |
And there the killer would be named |
And the days weighed more than the cold copper ore |
'Cause he feared that he was being framed |
'Cause he found out that he was being framed |
Oh, strange are the ways of western law |
Strange are the ways of fate |
For the government crawled to the mine owner’s call |
That the judge was appointed by the state |
Yes, the judge was appointed by the state |
Oh, Utah justice can be had |
But not for a union man |
And Joe was warned by summer early morn |
That there’d be one less singer in the land |
There’d be one less singer in the land |
Now William Spry was Governor Spry |
And a life was his to hold |
On the last appeal, fell a governor’s tear |
May the lord have mercy on your soul |
May the lord have mercy on your soul |
Even President Wilson held up the day |
But even he would fail |
For nobody heard the soul searching words |
Of the soul in the Salt Lake City jail |
Of the soul in the Salt Lake City jail |
For 36 years he lived out his days |
And he more than played his part |
For his songs that he made, he was carefully paid |
With a rifle bullet buried in his heart |
With a rifle bullet buried in his heart |
Yes, they lined Joe Hill up against the wall |
Blindfold over his eyes |
It’s the life of a rebel that he chose to live |
It’s the death of a rebel that he died |
It’s the death of a rebel that he died |
Now some say Joe was guilty as charged |
And some say he wasn’t even there |
And I guess nobody will ever know |
'Cause the court records all disappeared |
'Cause the court records all disappeared |
Say wherever you go in this fair land |
In every union hall |
In the dusty dark these words are marked |
In between all the cracks upon the wall |
In between all the cracks upon the wall |
It’s the very last line that Joe Will wrote |
When he knew that his days were through |
«Boys, this is my last and final will |
Good luck to all of you |
Good luck to all of you» |