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The Ballad Of Joe Hill
Current mood: Enlightened
Category: Enlightened Music
The Ballad Of Joe Hill
(Lyrics by Ryan Gilbert)
Come gather round folks
From across the land
I’ll tell you a tale ‘bout a hard workin’ man
More than a folksinger
He’s more a folk legend
And now I assure you he’s a-singin’ in heaven
Twas right here in Utah
Near the Great Salt Lakes
Where a guilt free man’s life was at stake
To many a Union soul he was considered a brother
But the cold western hand of law condemned him for murder
On Sweden’s lonely shores
In Eighteen Seventy-Nine
Was born a man far ahead of his time
This nation he helped build
In every trade and every guild
From the docks to the old copper mines
Sailing to America
At the age of twenty-three
He had the same amount of years as me
He laid the lead pipe and worked the western rails
Stacked the hay and in the harbor set the sails
Joe Hill, Joe Hill
He worked well over ten hours a day
Joe Hill, Joe Hill
For the workers of the world his life he would pay
Now in 1905 the Wobblies had begun
The International Workers of the World
In 1910 it was for them that he sung
Writin’ poetry for the Union boys and girls
From Chicago, San Pedro, Salt Lake City, Deseret
He played his Union songs all across the U.S.A.
Loved by everyone
He was his father’s son
And his person found great comfort in his fame
He did not know what was to come
He had no chance to run
Nor had he known to cease the comin’ pain
It was here in my home town
Joe Hill was Salt Lake City bound
Though it happened far fore I was born
Authority hunted him down
T’wasn’t long fore he was found
There was no chance in hell he could be warned
At Morrisson’s Grocery Store
Two men stormed through the door
Brandishing their silver pistols high,
Red bandanas wrapped their faces to the eyes
Both father and son’s lives were added to their score
Well the law it seemed had pinned
On Joe Hill the greatest sin
And used him as a scapegoat to keep the peace
They didn’t like him none
He had thrown away his gun
And the sun was a risin’ in the east
Now the judge was M.L. Ritchie
I suppose that suits him well
And the witnesses had stories for to tell
Gov’nor William Spry
Had forced the witnesses to lie
And the judge made their tongues twist until they fell
The person on the stand
Said she was sure it wasn’t him
But the judge asked again if he was thin
She said she did not know
She did not think it was Joe
But the judge he was determined to win
On the day before his death
He was nervous not one bit
And he knew this world he had to leave it
So he took to his pen without a single chill
And began to compose his final will
Here is the final testimony of Joe Hill
He said:
“My will is easy to decide
For there is nothing to divide
My kin don’t need to fuss and to moan—
Moss does not cling to a rolling stone
My body?—Oh!—If I could choose
I would to ashes it reduce
And let the breezes blow
My dust to where some flowers grow
Perhaps some fading flower then
Would come to a life and bloom again
This is my last and final will
Good luck to all of you
--Joe Hill”
November 19th of 1915
To a chair they tightly strapped him with no art
While five riflemen waited aiming for their mark
They made sure Joe Hill was dead
With four bullets cast of lead
Deeply embedded in his heart
Copyright 2005
Ryan Gilbert
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Currently
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:
Case of Joe Hill
By
Philip Sheldon Foner
Release date: June, 1965
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9:22 PM
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rejuvenated
