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Ballad of Elizabeth Gurley Flynn
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Story of Elizabeth Gurley Flynn
acoustic folk social commentary political satire western massachusetts oil coal climate change fracking incineration music for social change nuclear energy
Folk singer, social commentary, satire, people's stories, children's music
Hi Folks, The Bard Insurgent here. My comrade D.O. (the Poet Roofer) and I got that handle (The Bard Insurgents) from traveling town to town performing songs and poetry about people's lives. I've been performing since I was 3 years old, cutting my vocal chords on liturgical and classical music. I was a concert soloist as a child, when I wasn't herding cows, throwing hay and shoveling manure. During the Civil Rights movement and the Vietnam war, I began writing songs about social change. I left the country in 1970 and my dozen years in other countries, mostly in Africa & South America, have provided a global perspective to my music. My travels helped me realize that people all around the world are essentially the same in their basic life needs and their desires to live peacefully in their communities. These experiences have informed my commitment to working for international understanding as I organize at home. A powerful way to educate and inspire is with music. I tell people's stories, do social commentary with a touch of satire that I hope you enjoy and share with your friends, as well as sing together in the streets and in your living rooms. I also have children's music written for the children in my life with Jacob and Kayla as primary muses. Looking forward to seeing you on the road, Tom
Song Info
Charts
Peak #82
Peak in subgenre #10
Author
Tom Neilson and Michael
Rights
2013
Uploaded
August 31, 2013
Track Files
MP3
MP3 5.4 MB 160 kbps 4:41
Lyrics
The Ballad of Elizabeth Gurley Flynn Her union speech, at age 16, ignited a sensation. “Gurley” was her given name, but not her reputation. She won fame as a firebrand, with wisdom to bestow: The world would be a better place if workers ran the show. Soon she was among the greatest Wobbly organizers, Sworn to wrest the power from the capitalist misers. Their tool would be the general strike, and not the bomb or gun. Their power was the workers (may their mighty will be done). In New York hotel kitchens, under New England smoke stacks, With Minnesota miners and southern lumberjacks, She journeyed ‘round the country, without breaks, throughout the year, And, in Lawrence, Massachusetts, reached the peak of her career. At the tender age of 16, she was tough as powder blasts - A tireless defender of the hurting working class. Her will belied her stature and she taught the bosses fast That, even with a size six boot, it’s still called “kicking ass”. The textile mills of Lawrence made the owners’ pockets full, But little reached the poor mill hands whose looms produced the wool. The wages were abysmal. Families barely stayed alive. Nearly half the deaths in Lawrence were of children under five. The legislature cut the standard work week by two hours, But soon the owners showed that they abused their lofty powers. When the next paychecks were shorted, they removed all mystery, And the workers launched one of the greatest strikes in history. Opposed by all the instruments of power and persuasion, Militia, press and clergy and the state administration, Gurley and her comrades organized the teeming throng, And the strikers held together, more than 20,000 strong. At the tender age of 16, she was tough as powder blasts - A tireless defender of the hurting working class. Her will belied her stature and she taught the bosses fast That, even with a size six boot, it’s still called “kicking ass”. When the leaders were arrested, Gurley jumped to take the reins, Making speeches, raising strike funds and consolidating gains With round-the-clock mass pickets and soup kitchens alike, And history came to know her as the Spirit of the Strike. Then Gurley planned an exodus of strikers’ kids from town To stay with union families ‘til the mayhem simmered down. Some were beaten, with their mothers, in a brutal police raid, But most went to other cities and were feted with parades. They marched along the boulevards, appearing near starvation. Emaciated bodies spurred the outrage of the nation. The bosses caved. They knew they’d lost, undone by their own sins, And the kids returned to Lawrence to celebrate the win. At the tender age of 16, she was tough as powder blasts - A tireless defender of the hurting working class. Her will belied her stature and she taught the bosses fast That, even with a size six boot, it’s still called “kicking ass”
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