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Massacre of 1913
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So many good people died during America's labor wars, and without songs like these, these 73 slain children of Calumet, Michigan would probably be just another statistic.
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"If the great Phil Ochs were to rise from the dead today, he would probably be hailed as the new David Rovics." Andy Kershaw, BBC
Song Info
Genre
Acoustic • Acoustic Folk
Charts
Peak #34
Peak in subgenre #3
Author
Sung by David Rovics
Rights
Written by Woody Guthrie
Uploaded
June 14, 2005
Track Files
MP3
MP3 7.4 MB • 128 kbps • 0:00
Story behind the song
Another of my favorite songs by Woody Guthrie, this tells one story from America's labor wars. Sometimes pitched battles were fought, while other times the murders committed by cops, scabs and gun thugs were much more devious. So many good people died during America's labor wars, and without songs like these, these 73 slain children of Calumet, Michigan would probably be just another statistic.
Lyrics
(by Woody Guthrie) Let me take you back to 1913 To Calumet, Michigan in the copper country I'll take you to a place called Italian Hall Where the miners are having their big Christmas ball I'll take you through a door and up a high stairs Singing and dancing is heard everywhere Befoe you know it you're friends with us all And you're dancing and dancing around in the hall You ask about work and you ask about pay They'll tell you they make less than a dollar a day Working their copper claims, risking their lives So it's fun to spend Christmas with children and wives A little girl sits down by the Christmas tree lights To play the piano, so you gotta keep quiet To hear all this fun you would not realize That the copper boss thug men are milling outside The copper boss thugs stick their heads in the door One of them screams and he yells, "there's a fire" A lady she hollers, "there's no such a thing "Keep on with your party, there's no such a thing" Then some people rush, but it's only a few "It's just the thugs and the scabs fooling you" A man grabbed his daughter and he carried her down But the thugs held the door and he could not get out Then others rushed, a hundred or more But most everybody remained on the floor The gun thugs they laughed at their murderous joke And the children were smothered on the stairs by the smoke Such a terrible sight I never did see We carried our children back up to their tree The scabs outside still laughed at their spree And the children that died there was seventy-three The piano played a slow funeral tune And the night was lit up by a cold Christmas moon The parents they cried and the miners they moaned See what your greed for money has done
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