Page:When the Leaves Come Out (Chaplin 1917).pdf/42



You see, the boss gives you a "job."
 * You get so much per day,

But you produce far more, my lads,
 * Than ever comes your way.

And of this "product of your toil,"
 * (I'm very sad to say)

You give the "body" to the boss
 * And keep the "ghost" for "pay".

But should you wish to change all this,
 * On some bright First of May

Demand your product on the job
 * The One Big Union way.

That is your rightful pay, my lads,—
 * The only "honest" pay;

The boss will then become the "ghost" And soon he'll "walk" away. 

 The whirring wheels go round and round,
 * The slaves speed on throughout the day.
 * More joyless, dreamless things than they

Could nowhere on the earth be found.

No other sight, no other sound,
 * No hope but thus to always stay.

The whirring wheels go round and round,
 * The slaves speed on throughout the day.

Outside, that mystery profound,
 * A breath of Spring from far away—
 * The world wakes at the call of May;

But here the master smiled or frowned, The whirring wheels go round and round.... 