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I.W.W. Songs
To Fan the Flames of Discontent
Nineteenth Edition, 1923
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WE WILL SING ONE SONG
We will sing one song of the meek and numble slave,
The horny‐handed sone of toil,
He's toiling hard from the cradle to the grave,
But his master reaps the profit form his toil.
Then we'll sing one song of the greedy master class,
They're vagrants in broadcloth indeed,
They live by robbing the ever‐toiling mass,
Human blook they spill to satisfy their greed.
** Chorus
Organize! Oh, toilers, come organize your might;
Then we'll sing one song of the workers' commonwealth.
Full of beauty, full of love and health.
We will sing one song of the politician sly,
He's talking of changing the laws;
Election day all the drinks and smokes he'll buy,
While we make the welking ring with our applause.
Then we'll sing one song of the gril below the line,
She's scorned and despised everywhere,
While in their mansions the "keepers" wine and dine
From the profits that immoral traffic bear.
We will sing one song of the children in the mills,
They're taken from playgrounds and schools,
In tender years made to go the pace that kills,
in the sweatshops, 'mong the looms and the spools.
Then we'll sing one song of the One Big Union Grand,
The hope of the toiler and slave,
It's coming fast! it is sweeping sea and land,
To the terror of the grafter and the knave.
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