Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song 1913 Massacre, artist - Woody Guthrie. Album song Hard Travelin', The Asch Recordings, Vol. 3, in the genre
Date of issue: 05.11.2019
Record label: Limitless Int
Song language: English
1913 Massacre |
Take a trip with me in nineteen thirteen |
To Calumet, Michigan in the copper country |
I’ll take you to a place called Italian Hall |
And the miners are having their big Christmas ball |
I’ll take you in a door and up a high stairs |
Singing and dancing is heard ev’rywhere |
I’ll let you shake hands with the people you see |
And watch the kids dance 'round the big Christmas tree |
There’s talking and laughing and songs in the air |
And the spirit of Christmas is there ev’rywhere |
Before you know it you’re friends with us all |
And you’re dancing around and around in the hall |
You ask about work and you ask about pay |
They’ll tell you they make less than a dollar a day |
Working their copper claims, risking their lives |
So it’s fun to spend Christmas with children and wives |
A little girl sits down by the Christmas tree lights |
To play the piano so you gotta keep quiet |
To hear all this fun; |
you would not realize |
That the copper boss thug men are milling outside |
The copper boss thugs stuck their heads in the door |
One of them yelled and he screamed, «There's a fire» |
A lady she hollered, «There's no such a thing; |
Keep on with your party, there’s no such a thing.» |
A few people rushed and there’s only a few |
«It's just the thugs and the scabs fooling you.» |
A man grabbed his daughter and he carried her down |
But the thugs held the door and he could not get out |
And then others followed, about a hundred or more |
But most everybody remained on the floor |
The gun thugs, they laughed at their murderous joke |
And the children were smothered on the stairs by the door |
Such a terrible sight I never did see |
We carried our children back up to their tree |
The scabs outside still laughed at their spree |
And the children that died there was seventy-three |
The piano played a slow funeral tune |
And the town was lit up by a cold Christmas moon |
The parents, they cried and the men, they moaned |
«See what your greed for money has done?» |