Page:Songs of the IWW 4th Australian Edition.pdf/6

4

We are coming home, John Farmer: we are coming back to stay: For nigh on fifty years or more, we've gathered up your hay. We have slept out in your hayfields, we have heard your morning shout; We've heard you wondering, where in hell's them pesky go-abouts?

It's a long way, now understand me; it's a long way to town; It's a long way across the prairie, and to hell with Farmer John; Up goes machine or wages, and the hours must come down; For we're out for a winter's stake this summer, and we want no scabs around.

You've paid the going wages, that's what kept, us on the bum, You say you've done your duty, you chin-whiskered son of a gun; We have sent your kids to college, but still you must rave and shout, And call us tramps and hoboes, and pesky go-abouts.

But now the wintry breezes are a-shaking our poor frames, And the long drawn days of hunger, try to drive us boes insane, It is driving us to action—we are organized to-day; Us pesky tramps and hoboes, are coming back to stay.

Every worker should have an ambition to live to be a healthy old man or woman and hear the whistle blow for the bosses to go to work.