Lyrics The Flood And The Storm - Woody Guthrie

The Flood And The Storm

The year is nineteen and twenty, kind friends
And the great World’s War we have won
Old Kaiser Bill, we’ve beat him once again
In the smoke of the cannon and the gun
Old von Hindenburg and his Royal German Army
They are tramps in tatters and in rags
Uncle Sammy has tied every nation in this world
In his long old leather money bags
Wilson caught a trip and a train into Paris
Meetin' Lloyd George and Mr. Clemenceau
They said to Mr. Wilson, «We've staked all of our claims
There is nothing else for you.»
«I plowed more lands, I built bigger fact’ries
An' I stopped Hindenburg in his tracks
You thank the Yanks by claimin' all the lands
But you still owe your money to my bank.»
«Keep sending your ships across these waters;
We’ll borrow all the money you can lend
We must buy new clothes, new plows, and fact’ries
And we need golden dollars for to spend.»
Ever' dollar in the world, well, it rolled and it rolled
And it rolled into Uncle Sammy’s door
A few got richer, and richer, and richer
But the poor folks kept but gettin' poor
Well, the workers in the world did fight a revolution
To chase out the gamblers from their land
Farmers, an' peasants, an' workers in the city
Fought together on their five-year plans
The soul and the spirit of the workers' revolution
Spread across ever' nation in this world;
From Italy to China, to Europe and to India
An' the blood of the workers it did spill
This spirit split the wind to Boston, Massachussetts
With Coolidge on the Governor’s chair
Troopers an' soldiers, the guards and the spies
Fought the workers that brought the spirit there
Sacco and Vanzetti had preached to the workers
They was carried up to Old Judge Thayer
They was charged with killin' the payroll guards
And they died in the Charlestown chair
Well, the world shook harder on the night they died
Than 'twas shaken by that great World War
More millions did march for Sacco and Vanzetti
Than did march for the great war lords
Well, the peasants, the farmers, the towns and the cities
An' the hills and the valleys they did ring
Hindenburg an' Wilson, an' Harding, Hoover, Coolidge
Never heard this many voices sing
The zigzag lightning, the rumbles of the thunder
And the singing of the clouds blowing by
The flood and the storm for Sacco and Vanzetti
Caused the rich man to pull his hair and cry