Joe Hill

“ And the grub it stunk as bad as forty-'leven skunks,
When I slaved a week the boss he said one day,
You're too tired, you are fired, go and get your pay.
When the clerk commenced to count, Oh holy gee!
Road, school and poll tax and hospital fee.
Then I fainted, and I nearly lost my sense
When the clerk he said: "You owe me fifty cents."
When I got back to town with blisters on my feet,
There I heard a fellow speaking on the street.
And he said: "It is the workers' own mistake.
If they stick together they get all they make." ”