Tune Revive Us Again, by William P. Mackay, 1863; new union lyrics usually attributed to Harry "Haywire Mac" McClintock ca 1902, though possibly either compiled by Carl Sandburg (from verses written by various railroad workers) or hobo "One-Finger Ellis"; performed by Bob Bovee - From the album, IWW Rebel Voices: Songs Of The Industrial Workers Of The World, 1987
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Lyrics:
Well, why don’t you work
As other folk do?
How in hell can I work
When there’s no work to do?
Hallelujah, I’m a bum!
Hallelujah, bum, again!
Hallelujah, give us a handout—
To revive us again.
Well, why don’t you save
All the money you earn?
Hell, if I didn’t eat,
I’d have money to burn!
Hallelujah, I’m a bum!
Hallelujah, bum, again!
Hallelujah, give us a handout—
To revive us again.
Oh, I like my boss:
He’s a good friend of mine.
And that’s why I’m starving
Out in the bread-line!
Hallelujah, I’m a bum!
Hallelujah, bum, again!
Hallelujah, give us a handout—
To revive us again.
I can’t buy a job
For I don’t have the dough;
So, I ride in a boxcar
For I’m a hobo.
Hallelujah, I’m a bum!
Hallelujah, bum, again!
Hallelujah, give us a handout—
To revive us again.
Whenever I get
All the money I’ve earned,
The boss will be broke,
And to work he must turn.!
Hallelujah, I’m a bum!
Hallelujah, bum, again!
Hallelujah, give us a handout—
To revive us again.
Now, why do you work
Eight hours or more?
Two of us could have jobs
If you’d only work four.
Hallelujah, I’m a bum!
Hallelujah, bum, again!
Hallelujah, give us a handout—
To revive us again.
When springtime does come,
0h, won’t we have fun?
We’ll throw off our jobs,
And we’ll go on the bum.
Hallelujah, I’m a bum!
Hallelujah, bum, again!
Hallelujah, give us a handout—
To revive us again.
I went to a bar,
And I asked for a drink.
I was given a glass
And then showed to a sink.
Hallelujah, I’m a bum!
Hallelujah, bum, again!
Hallelujah, give us a handout—
To revive us again.
I went to a house;
I asked for some bread.
The lady said,
“Bum, bum, the baker is dead.”
Hallelujah, I’m a bum!
Hallelujah, bum, again!
Hallelujah, give us a handout—
To revive us again.
Oh, why don’t you work
Like other men do?
How can I get a job
When you’re holding down two?
Hallelujah! On the bum!
Hallelujah! Bum again!
Hallelujah! It’s machinery—
And to hell with the men!
Why speed up like that
’Til you’re ready to fall?
If you’d slow down a bit,
There’d be work for us all.
Hallelujah! On the bum!
Hallelujah! Bum again!
Hallelujah! It’s machinery—
And to hell with the men!
Twelve hours a day . . . !
Don’t you know any tricks?
Two folks could have jobs
If you’d only work six!
Hallelujah! On the bum!
Hallelujah! Bum again!
Hallelujah! It’s machinery—
And to hell with the men!
But don’t you complain;
Don’t open your eyes;
Don’t talk revolution;
And don’t organize.
Hallelujah! On the bum!
Hallelujah! Bum again!
Hallelujah! It’s machinery—
And to hell with the men!
If you cannot find work,
And they won’t give you bread,
Find a kind-hearted copper,
To beat off your head.
Hallelujah! On the bum!
Hallelujah! Bum again!
Hallelujah! It’s machinery—
And to hell with the men!
Hallelujah, I’m a bum!
Hallelujah, bum, again!
Hallelujah, give us a handout—
To revive us again.
Hallelujah, give us a handout—
To revive us again.