1913 Massacre Woody Guthrie
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[A]Take a trip with me in [Bm]nineteen [A]thirteen
To [D]Calumet, Michigan, in the[G] copper countr[A]y.
I'll take you to a place called It[Bm]alian [A]Hall
Where the[D] miners are h[G]aving their big Christmas[A] ball.
[A]I'll take you through a door, and [Bm]up a high [A]stairs.
Sin[D]ging and dancing is [G]heard every[A]where,
I will let you shake hands with the [Bm]people you[A] see
And [D]watch the kids d[G]ance round that big Christmas [A]tree.
You ask about work and you [Bm]ask about [A]pay;
The[D]y'll tell you that they make less than a[G] dollar a d[A]ay,
Working the copper claims, ris[Bm]king their [A]lives,
So it's [D]fun to spend [G]Christmas with children and w[A]ives.
[A]There's talking and laughing[Bm] and songs [A]in the air,
And [D]the spirit of Christmas is [G]there every[A]where,
Before you know it, you're [Bm]friends with us [A]all
And you're [D]dancing [G]around and around in the[A] hall.
[A]Well, a little girl sits down by the [Bm]Christmas tree [A]lights
To [D]play the piano, so you [G]gotta keep [A]quiet.
To hear all this fun you would [Bm]not real[a]ize
That the [D]copper-boss thu[G]g-men are milling outs[A]ide.
[A]The copper-boss thugs stuck their [Bm]heads in the [A]door
One[D] of them yelled and he screamed, "[G]There's a f[A]ire!"
A lady, she hollered, "There's [Bm]no such a [A]thing!
Keep on [D]with your [G]party, there's no such a th[A]ing."
[A]A few people rushed, and it was [Bm]only a [A]few
"It[D]'s only the thugs and the scabs [G]fooling y[A]ou."
A man grabbed his daughter and ca[Bm]rried her [A]down
But the [D]thugs held the[G] door and they could not get[A] out.
[A]And then others followed, a[Bm] hundred or [A]more
But[D] most everybody [G]remained on the fl[A]oor.
The gun-thugs they laughed at their [Bm]murderous [A]joke,
While the [D]children were[G] smothered on the stair by the[A] door.
[A]Such a terrible sight I [Bm]never did [A]see
We [D]carried our children back [G]up to their[A] tree.
The scabs outside still [Bm]laughed at their [A]spree
And the [D]children that [G]died there were seventy-[A]three.
[A]The piano played a [Bm]slow funeral [A]tune
And[D] the town was lit up by a [G]cold Christmas [A]moon,
The parents they cried and the [Bm]miners they [A]moaned,
"See [D]what your [G]greed for money has [A]done."
-Tabbed by Ryon Castro
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