Barbara Dane
Barbara Dane
Barbara Dane
Barbara Dane
Barbara Dane
Barbara Dane
Barbara Dane
Barbara Dane
Barbara Dane
Barbara Dane
Barbara Dane
Barbara Dane
Barbara Dane
Barbara Dane
It was early springtime and the strike was on
You drove us miners out of doors
Out of the houses that the Company owned
Moved into tents up at old Ludlow
We were worried bad about our children
Soldiers guarding the railroad bridge
Every once in a while a bullet would fly
Kick up gravel under my feet
We were so afraid you would kill our children
We dug us a cave that was seven foot deep
Put our young ones and a pregnant women
Down inside that cave to sleep
That very night your soldiers waited
Til all us miners was asleep
You snuck around our little tent town
Soaked our tents with your kerosene
You struck a match and the blaze it started
You pulled the triggers of your gatling guns
I made a run for the children but the fire wall stopped me
Thirteen children died from your guns
I carried my blanket to a wire fence corner
Watched the fire till the blaze died down
I helped some people drag their little belongings
While your bullets killed us all around
I never will forget the look on the faces
Of the men and women that awful day
As we stood around to preach their funerals
And lay the corpses of the dead away
We phoned the Governor told him "call the President,"
Call off his National Guard
But the National Guard belonged to the Governor
So he didn't try so very hard
Our women hauled some potatoes
Up to Walsenburg in a little cart
Sold them potatoes and brought some guns back
And they put a gun in every hand
The state soldiers jumped us in a wire fence corners
They did not know we had these guns
And the Red-neck Miners mowed down these troopers
You should have seen them poor boys run
We took some cement and walled the cave up
Where you killed our thirteen children inside
I said, "God bless the Mine Workers' Union, "
And then I hung my head and cried