| Now, if you want higher wages let me tell you what to do
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| You got to talk to the workers in the shop with you
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| You got to build you a union, got to make it strong
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| But if you all stick together, boys, it won’t be long
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| You get shorter hours, better working conditions
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| Vacations with pay. |
| Take your kids to the seashore
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| It ain’t quite this simple, so I better explain
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| Just why you got to ride on the union train
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| 'Cause if you wait for the boss to raise your pay
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| We’ll all be a-waitin' 'til Judgment Day
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| We’ll all be buried, gone to heaven
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| St. Peter’ll be the straw boss then
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| Now you know you’re underpaid but the boss says you ain’t;
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| He speeds up the work 'til you’re 'bout to faint
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| You may be down and out, but you ain’t beaten
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| You can pass out a leaflet and call a meetin'
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| Talk it over, speak your mind
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| Decide to do somethin' about it
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| Course, the boss may persuade some poor damn fool
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| To go to your meetin' and act like a stool
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| But you can always tell a stool, though, that’s a fact
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| He’s got a yaller streak a-runnin' down his back
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| He doesn’t have to stool, he’ll always get along
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| On what he takes out of blind men’s cups
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| You got a union now, and you’re sittin' pretty
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| Put some of the boys on the steering committee
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| The boss won’t listen when one guy squawks
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| But he’s got to listen when the union talks
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| He’d better, be mighty lonely
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| Everybody decide to walk out on him
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| Suppose they’re working you so hard it’s just outrageous
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| And they’re paying you all starvation wages
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| You go to the boss and the boss would yell
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| «Before I raise your pay I’d see you all in hell.»
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| Well, he’s puffing a big seegar, feeling mighty slick
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| 'Cause he thinks he’s got your union licked
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| Well, he looks out the window and what does he see
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| But a thousand pickets, and they all agree:
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| He’s a bastard, unfair, slavedriver
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| Bet he beats his wife!
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| Now, boys, you’ve come to the hardest time
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| The boss will try to bust your picket line
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| He’ll call out the police, the National Guard
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| They’ll tell you it’s a crime to have a union card
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| They’ll raid your meetin', they’ll hit you on the head
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| They’ll call every one of you a goddam red
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| Unpatriotic, Japanese spies, sabotaging national defense!
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| But out at Ford, here’s what they found
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| And out at Vultee, here’s what they found
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| And out at Allis-Chalmers, here’s what they found
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| And down at Bethlehem, here’s what they found:
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| That if you don’t let red-baiting break you up
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| And if you don’t let stoolpigeons break you up
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| And if you don’t let vigilantes break you up
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| And if you don’t let race hatred break you up
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| You’ll win. |
| What I mean, take it easy, but take it! |