Lyrics Hard times - William Elliott Whitmore

Hard times

My Grandma’s Grandpa
Came over across the sea
In the boiler room of a steam ship
On his way from Germany
He was running from the Kaiser
Who was putting the hammer down
And the cries of the dying men
Were such an awful sound
They were such an awful sound
Hard times
Hard times
Hard times made us
And my father was a railroad man
A mechanic, and son of the soil
His back was busted
And his hands were cut and sore
His hands were cut and sore
But he swore that hard times
Hard times
Hard times made us
You know that hard times
Hard times
Hard times made us
And I would not trade them all for anything
Uncle Sam
Well he ain’t no kin to me
And what we have
Is a crisis of authority
Its a crisis of authority
Hard times
Hard times
Hard times made us
You know that hard times
Hard times
Hard times made us
And I would not trade them all for anything