| Oh, pour me a drink of Italian red wine
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| Let me taste it and call back to mind
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| Once more in my thoughts, once more to my soul
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| This story as great, if not greater, than all
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| The AP news on June 24 th
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| Told about a Patrolman named Earl J. Vaugh
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| He stepped on a Main Street Trolley Car
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| To arrest Sacco and Vanzetti there
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| The article tell how Earl J. Vaugh
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| Is now retiring as officer of law
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| This cop goes down in my history
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| For arresting Sacco and Vanzetti that day
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| «Twas nineteen and twenty, the fifth of May
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| The cop and some buddies took these two men away
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| Off of the car and out and down
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| Down to the jail Brockton town
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| There’s been a killing and robbery
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| At Slater Morrill’s shoe factory
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| You two gents are carrying guns
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| And you dodged the draft when the war did come
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| Yes, oh yes, 'tis so, 'tis so
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| We made for the borders of Mexico
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| The rich man’s war we could not fight
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| So we crossed the border to keep out of sight
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| You men are known as radical sons
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| You must be killers, you both carry guns
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| I am a night watchman, my friend peddles fish
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| He carries his gun when he’s go lots of cash
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| Oh, pour me a glass of Germany’s beer
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| Russia’s hot vodka, strong and clear
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| Oh, pour me a glass of Palestine’s Hock
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| Or just a moonshiner’s bucket of Chock
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| Now, let me think, and let me see
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| How these two men were found guilty
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| How a hundred and sixty witnesses did pass by
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| And the ones that spoke for them was a hundred and five
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| Out of the rest, about fifty just guessed
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| And out of the five that were put to the test
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| Only the story of one held true
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| After a hundred and fifty-nine got through
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| And one this one, uncertain and afraid
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| She saw the carload of robbers, she said
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| And one year later, she remembered his face
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| After seeing this car for a second and a half
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| She told of his hand, his gun, his ears
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| She told of his shirt, and the cut of his hair
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| She remembered his eyes, his lips, his cheeks
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| And Eva Splaine’s tale sent these men to the chair
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| I was right here in Boston the night they died
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| I never seen such a sight in my life
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| I thought those crowds would pull down the town
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| I was hoping they’d do it and change things around
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| I hoped they’d pull Judge Thayer on down
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| From off of his bench and chase him around
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| I hoped they’d run him around the stump
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| And stick him with devils tails 'bout every jump |