It's all a game—these fields we harvest in;
The "Scissor" loses ere he can begin.
But SOLIDARITY is One Big Hand
That makes the Wobbly always sure to win.
The grindstone always grinds the "Scissors" nose,
For right or left as bids the Boss he goes.
But ask some Wise One why he organized,
He knows the reason why—he KNOWS—HE knows!
The Moonlight Monster said, "We don't agree;
You take the wage I give or let it be!"
"All right, old top, two bones and fifty cents
Will mean HEADS DOWN (we'll stack them right for three!")
There is no road too rough for Wooden Shoes;
(There is a Cat with CLAWS that never mews!)
A little Direct Action on the job—
And God Almighty couldn't make us lose!
The Shoe that can with logic absolute
The "Scissor" slave and "Scissor" boss confute—
The mighty Talisman that in a trice
Can Toil's Tin Wages into gold transmute.
So leave the Wind-Bags wrangle—let them be
To slaughter gods and spout philosophy;
The Wobbly has the Way to get the Goods
And that's the thing that interests you and me.
For when John Farmer's crops are stacked up fine,
Then every single rebel down the line
Can say (thanks to the Red Book and the Cat)
I've got my share, you "Scissors"—I've got mine!
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