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Communist Music

Soviet cogitations: 517
Defected to the U.S.S.R.: 18 Jun 2004, 06:36
Post 25 Jul 2004, 21:21
Found this strange, rather amusing song on accident on Google:

Walter Cliff aka Walter Gourlay
(Tune: The Butcher Boy)

Written about 1941, one of the songs generated
by the Jacobin Jerques, youth group of the
Shachtmanites, Staten Island, New York.

Oh, Mama, I saw one on the Square, heck-el-ing a Y-C-Ler there.
I could see that she was doing fine, for she had better twists and curves
Than any party line.

A Trotskyite, a Trotskyite, I wanna marry a Trotskyite.
The bourgeoisie, they don't appeal to me,
A Yipsel girl must keep me company.
Oh dearie, no Y-C-L for me,
I only want a Trotskyite to bounce upon my knee.

In spite of Bronx and Brooklyn dialects, the Yipsel girls have got a lot of sex.
They know their Engels and they know their Marx
And we've discussed Das Kapital on Sundays in the parks.

They know their love, they know their politics,
l'm crazy for those female Bolsheviks.
I know we agree in the theory of the State
And so I'm sure that one of them would make a perfect mate.

The Yipsel girls have given their consent
To Marx's laws of full development;
My, how dames and dialectics,
Trotsky, love, and Lenin, and sex appeal can mix.

I know about Joe Stalin's Comintern,
And "surplus value" is just what I should learn.
But my education has never gone above
Beginning of "Utopian and Scientific Love".

As workers of the world we must unite,
So I'll do it with a Trotskyite.
We'll join our hands in a union strong
And they'll play "Solidarity" for our wedding song.

'Twill be a Dual Power Regime,
We'll collaborate, strange as it may seem.
And we'll begin, my wife and me,
To read Engels' "Origin of the Family."

My wife and I will go to bed at nights:
"United Front" between the Trotskyites.
And when she's out on Yipsel work instead,
I'll buy Labor Action to take her place in bed.

Oh, you'll never know Bolshevism's charms
Until you've had a Yipsel in your arms.
Joe Stalin would change his party line
And the Gay-Pay-Oo would pay to woo
A comrade such as mine.
Soviet cogitations: 517
Defected to the U.S.S.R.: 18 Jun 2004, 06:36
Post 28 Jul 2004, 18:48
By John Lennon
(This one gets sung so much, we forget how communistic the lyrics are)

Imagine there's no heaven,
It's easy if you try,
No hell below us,
Above us only sky,
Imagine all the people
living for today...

Imagine there's no countries,
It isnt hard to do,
Nothing to kill or die for,
No religion too,
Imagine all the people
living life in peace...

You may say Im a dreamer,
but Im not the only one,
I hope some day you'll join us,
And the world will live as one.

Imagine no possesions,
I wonder if you can,
No need for greed or hunger,
A brotherhood of man,
Imagine all the people
Sharing all the world...

You may say Im a dreamer,
but Im not the only one,
I hope some day you'll join us,
And the world will live as one.
Soviet cogitations: 517
Defected to the U.S.S.R.: 18 Jun 2004, 06:36
Post 28 Jul 2004, 18:54
Subterranean Homesick Blues

by Bob Dylan]

Johnny's in the basement
Mixing up the medicine
I'm on the pavement
Thinking about the government
The man in the trench coat
Badge out, laid off
Says he's got a bad cough
Wants to get it paid off
Look out kid
It's somethin' you did
God knows when
But you're doing it again
You better duck down the alleyway
Lookin' for a new friend
The man in the coonskin cap
In the big pen
Wants eleven dollar bills
But you only got ten

Maggie comes fleet foot
Face full of black soot
Talkin' that the heat put
Plants in the bed but
The phone's tapped anyway
Maggie says that many say
They must bust in early May
Orders from the D.A.
Look out kid
Don't matter what you did
Walk on your tip toes
Don't try "No Doz"
Better stay away from those
That carry around a fire hose
Keep a clean nose
Watch the plain clothes
You don't need a weather man
To know which way the wind blows

Get sick, get well
Hang around the ink well
Ring bell, hard to tell
If anything is goin' to sell
Try hard, get barred
Get back, write braille
Get jailed, jump bail
Join the army, if you fail
Look out kid
You're gonna get hit
But users, cheaters
Six-time losers
Hang around the theaters
Girl by the whirlpool
Lookin' for a new fool
Don't follow leaders
Watch the parkin' meters

Ah get born, keep warm
Short pants, romance, learn to dance
Get dressed, get blessed
Try to be a success
Please her, please him, buy gifts
Don't steal, don't lift
Twenty years of schoolin'
And they put you on the day shift
Look out kid
They keep it all hid
Better jump down a manhole
Light yourself a candle
Don't wear sandals
Try to avoid the scandals
Don't wanna be a bum
You better chew gum
The pump don't work
'Cause the vandals took the handles
Last edited by Yex on 30 Jul 2004, 00:06, edited 1 time in total.
Soviet cogitations: 517
Defected to the U.S.S.R.: 18 Jun 2004, 06:36
Post 28 Jul 2004, 19:12
Some Joe Hill Songs:

Casey Jones- The Union Scab(1911)

The workers on the S. P. Line to strike out a call;
But Casey Jones, the engineer, he wouldn't strike at all;
His boiler it was leaking, and its drivers on the bum,
And his engine and its bearings, they were all out of plumb.
Casey Jones, he kept his junk-pile running,
Casey Jones was working double time;
Casey Jones, he got a wooden medal, for being good and Faithful on The S. P. Line.

The workers said to Casey: "Won't
You help us win this strike?"
But Casey said: "Let me alone, you'd better take a hike."
Then Casey's wheezy engine ran right out of track,
And Casey hit the river with an awful crack.

Casey Jones, hit the river bottom,
Casey Jones broke his blooming spine,
Casey Jones became and angeleno,
He took a trip to heaven on the S. P. Line.

When Casey Jones got up to heaven to the Pearly Gate,
He said: "I'm Casey Jones, the guy that pulled the S. P. freight."
"You're just the man," said Peter,
"Our musicians are on strike;
"You can get a job a-scabbing any time you like."

Casey Jones got a job in heaven;
Casey Jones was doing mighty fine;
Casey Jones went scabbing on the angels,
Just like he did to workers on the S. P. Line."

Well the Angels Got together, said it was not fair
For Casey Jones To go around a' scabin' everywhere
And angels' Local 23 they sure was there
and they promptly fired Casey down the Golden Stair

Casey Jones went to hell a' flyin'
Casey Jones, And the Devil said "Oh Fine"
Casey Jones, Get Busy Shovlin' Sulfur
That’s what you get for scabin' on the SP line.

The Preacher and the Slave(1910)
Also known as "Pie in the Sky" and "The Long-Haired Preacher Song"

Long haired preachers come out ev'ry night,
Try to tell you what's wrong and what's right;
But when asked, how 'bout something to eat,
They will answer with voices so sweet;
You will eat,
Bye and bye,
in that glorious land above the sky;
(way up high)
work and pray, live on hay,
you'll get pie in the sky when you die. (That's a lie)

And the starvation army they play,
And they sing and they clap and they pray.
Till they get all your coin on the drum,
Then they'll tell you when you're on the bum:


Holy Rollers and Jumpers come out,
And they holler, they jump and they shout
"Give your money to Jesus," they say,
"He will cure all diseases today."


If you fight hard for children and wife-
Try to get something good in this life-
You're a sinner and bad man, they tell,
When you die you will sure go to hell.


Workingmen of all countries unite,
Side by side we for freedom will fight!
When the world and its wealth we have gained,
To the grafters we'll sing this refrain:

-Final Chorus-

You will eat, bye and bye,
When you've learned how to cook and to fry.
Chop some wood, 'twill do you good,
And you'll eat in the sweet bye and bye.

Where the Fraser River Flows

Fellow workers, pay attention
To what I'm gonna mention,
For it is the fixed Intention
Of the Workers of the World,
And I Hope you'll all be ready,
Truehearted, brave and steady,
To rally 'round the standard
W hen the Red Flag is unfurled.

Where the Fraser River flows,
Each fellow worker knows,
They have bullied and oppressed us,
But still our Union grows.
And we're going to find a way, boys;
For shorter hours and better pay, boys;
And we're going to win the day, boys;
Where the River Fraser flows.

For these gunny-sack contractors
Have all been dirty actors,
And they're not our benefactors,
Each fellow worker knows.
So we've got to stick together
In fine or dirty weather,
And we will show no white feather,
Where the Fraser River flows.


Now the boss the law is stretching,
Bulls and pimps he's fetching,
And they are a fine collection,
A s Jesus only knows.
But why their mothers reared them,
And why the devil spared them,
Are questions we can't answer,
Where the Fraser River flows.
Soviet cogitations: 517
Defected to the U.S.S.R.: 18 Jun 2004, 06:36
Post 28 Jul 2004, 19:19
This one, The White Slave(1912), Looks at the Economic Base of Prostitution. It is sung to the tune of "Meet me tonight in Dream Land"

One little girl, fair as a pearl,
Worked every day in a laundry;
All that she made for food she paid,
So she slept on a park bench so soundly;
An old procuress spied her there,
And whispered softly in her ear:

Come with me now, my girly,
Don't sleep out in the cold;
Your face and tresses curly
Will bring you fame and gold,
Automobiles to ride in, diamonds and silks to wear,
You'll be a star bright, down in the red light,
You'll make your fortune there.

Same little girl, no more a pearl,
Walks all alone 'long the river,
Five years have flown, her health is gone,
She would look at the water and shiver,
Whene'er she'd stop to rest and sleep,
She'd hear a voice call from the deep:


Girls in this way, fall every day,
And have been falling for ages,
Who is to blame? you know his name,
It's the boss that pays starvation wages.
A homeless girl can always hear
Temptations calling everywhere.

Soviet cogitations: 517
Defected to the U.S.S.R.: 18 Jun 2004, 06:36
Post 28 Jul 2004, 19:24
I've always liked this one by Joe Hill:
The Tramp

You can find the Music here (though its usually sung at a faster tempo):

If you all will shut your trap,
I will tell you 'bout a chap,
That was broke and up against it, too, for fair
He was not the kind that shirk,
He was looking hard for work,
But he heard the same old story everywhere:

Tramp, tramp, tramp, keep on a-tramping,
Nothing doing here for you;
If I catch you 'round again,
You will wear the ball and chain,
Keep on tramping, that's the best thing you can do.

He walked up and down the street,
'Till the shoes fell off his feet,
In a house he spied a lady cooking stew,
And he said, "How do you do,
May I chop some wood for you?"
What the lady told him made him feel so blue:


'Cross the street a sign he read,
"Work for Jesus," so it said,
And he said, "Here is my chance, I'll surely try,"
And he kneeled upon the floor,
'Till his knees got rather sore,
But at eating-time he heard the preacher cry:


Down the street he met a cop,
And the Copper made him stop,
And he asked him, "When did you blow into town?
Come with me up to the judge."
But the judge he said, "Oh, fudge,
Bums that have no money needn't come around."


Finally came that happy day
When his life did pass away,
He was sure he'd go to heaven when he died,
When he reached the pearly gate,
Santa Peter, mean old skate,
Slammed the gate right in his face and loudly cried:


In despair he went to Hell,
With the Devil for to dwell,
For the reason he'd no other place to go.
And he said, "I'm full of sin,
So for Christ's sake, let me in!"
But the Devil said, "Oh, beat it! You're a 'bo!"

And of Course, Hallelujah I'm a Bum (c1897), by Harry McClintock

Here's Part, of it, so you know how the tune goes: ... obj=v31208

Hallelujah, I'm a bum,
Hallelujah, bum again,
Hallelujah, give us a handout
To revive us again.

Oh, why don't you save all the money you earn?
If I didn't eat, I'd have money to burn.

Whenever I get all the money I earn,
The boss will be broke, and to work he must turn.

Oh, I like my boss, he's a good friend of mine,
That's why I am starving out on the breadline.

When springtime it comes, oh, won't we have fun;
We'll throw off our jobs, and go on the bum.


I can't buy a job 'cause I ain't got the dough,
So I ride in a boxcar 'cause I'm a hobo.

I went to a bar and I asked for a drink,
They gave me a glass and they showed me the sink.

ADDITIONAL VERSES FROM CARL SANDBURG, THE AMERICAN SONGBAG, New York, NY, 1990 (originally published in 1927), p. 185.

I went to a house,
And I knocked on the door;
A lady came out, says,
"You been here before."

I went to a house,
And I asked for a piece of bread;
A lady came out, says,
"The baker is dead."
Soviet cogitations: 517
Defected to the U.S.S.R.: 18 Jun 2004, 06:36
Post 03 Aug 2004, 20:33
wheelchairman wrote:
a beautiful song...

Joe Hill

I dreamed I saw Joe Hill last night

I don't want to sound nit-picky, but I really like this song, so I'm going to point out that you skipped the second verse:

"In Salt Lake Joe, By God", says I,
Him standing by my bed,
"They framed you on a Murder Charge";
Says Joe, "But I ain't dead"
Says Joe, "But I ain't Dead"

So in its Entirety:
I dreamed I saw Joe Hill last night,
alive as you and me,
Says I "But Joe, you're ten years dead"
"I never died" said he,
"I never died" said he,

"In Salt Lake Joe, By God", says I,
Him standing by my bed,
"They framed you on a Murder Charge";
Says Joe, "But I ain't dead"
Says Joe, "But I ain't Dead"

"The Copper Bosses killed you Joe,
they shot you Joe" says I,
"Takes more than guns to kill a man"
Says Joe "I didn't die"
Says Joe "I didn't die"

And standing there as big as life
and smiling with his eyes,
Says Joe "What they can never kill
went on to organize,
went on to organize"

From San Diego up to Maine,
in every mine and mill,
where working-men defend there rights,
it's there you find Joe Hill,
it's there you find Joe Hill!

I dreamed I saw Joe Hill last night,
alive as you and me,
Says I "But Joe, you're ten years dead"
"I never died" said he,
"I never died" said he,
Soviet cogitations: 517
Defected to the U.S.S.R.: 18 Jun 2004, 06:36
Post 03 Aug 2004, 20:42
Likewise, Wheely skipped several verses of another song I love, The Red Flag. I won't point out every mistake; I'll just post the full version:

The worker's flag is deepest red,
It shrouded oft our martyred dead,
And ere their limbs grew stiff and cold
Their hearts' blood dyed its ev'ry fold.

Then raise the scarlet standard high!
Within its shade we'll live or die.
Though cowards flinch and traitors sneer,
We'll keep the red flag flying here.

Look 'round, the Frenchman loves its blaze,
The sturdy German chants its praise,
In Moscow's vaults its hymns are sung
Chicago swells the surging throng.


It waved above our infant might
When all ahead seemed dark as night;
It witnessed many a deed and vow:
We must not change its color now.


It suits today the meek and base,
Whose minds are fixed on pelf and place,
To cringe beneath the rich man's frown,
And haul that sacred emblem down.


It well recalls the triumphs past;
It gives the hope of peace at last --
The banner bright, the symbol plain
Of human right and human gain.


With heads uncovered swear we all
To bear it onward till we fall.
Come dungeons dark or gallows grim,
This song shall be our parting hymn.

Soviet cogitations: 36
Defected to the U.S.S.R.: 07 Sep 2004, 18:46
Post 07 Sep 2004, 18:56
I want to recommend you very rich site: It full of PERFECT music. Check it.
Soviet cogitations: 1
Defected to the U.S.S.R.: 27 Oct 2004, 16:28
New Comrade (Say hi & be nice to me!)
Post 27 Oct 2004, 16:57
Da!, i agree is the best in soviet music

" The soviet union never dies"
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