In this blessed land of freedom where King Mammon wears the crown,
There are many ways illegal now to hold the people down.
When the dudes of state militia are slow to come to time,
The law upholding Pinkertons are gathered from the slime.
There are wisely framed injunctions that you must not leave your job,
And a peaceable assemblage is declared to be a mob,
And Congress passed a measure framed by some consummate ass,
So they are clubbing men and women just for walking on the grass.
2. In this year of slow starvation, when a fellow look's for work,
The chances are a cop will grab his collar with a jerk;
He will run him in for vagrancy, he is branded as a tramp,
And all the well-to-do will shout: "It serves him right, the scamp!"
So we let the ruling class maintain the dignity of law,
When the court decides against us we are filled with wholesome awe,
But we cannot stand the outrage without a little sauce
When they're clubbing men and women just for walking on the grass.
3. The papers said the union men were all but anarchist,
So the job trust promised work for all who wouldn't enlist;
But the next day when the hungry horde surrounded city hall,
He hedged and said he didn't promise anything at all.
So the powers that be are acting very queer to say the least--
They should go and read their Bible and all about Belshazzar's feast,
And when mene tekel at length shall come to pass,
They'll stop clubbing men and women just for walking on the grass.
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