I wrote the following years ago as part of our Chicago History in Song program. We decided to drop it from the line-up when our performance caused a severe outbreak of yawning; it's little wordy and the tune I created to accompany the words wasn't compelling enough to sustain interest through all eight stanzas.
On a more positive note, my sister recently wrote a wonderful post on the Haymarket Martyrs. Read it here.
On a more positive note, my sister recently wrote a wonderful post on the Haymarket Martyrs. Read it here.
Albert Parsons was the son of rebels and preachers alike
And he wore grey when he rode a star and scouted for states
rights.
But the fate of the freedman caused him grief and he worked
for their plight
So the south banished him and he came to Chicago with Lucy
his wife.
In the north, Parsons saw low pay made slaves, freedom
equaled bread;
Government, business and the press kept workers chained, he
said.
When threatened and harmed for challenging pillars of money
and greed
He said the system must be destroyed or the workers would
wind up dead.
The state protected the business kings, political change was
a dream.
Election rigging and business deals made anarchy seem a good
thing.
In the city wealth sparkled brilliantly and workers lived
like dogs
The black and red protest flags flew high and the Anarchy
army grew strong.
“Hurrah for science!
Hurrah for the blast! All is just when snapping chains.
Hurrah for assassins who hit their
mark!” cried papers of anarchy fame.
The lines were drawn, the stage
was set, the city was aware,
When plans were made for the fourth
of May in the center of Haymarket
Square
They came to protest long work
days give speeches and stand as one
But Bonfield, a cop who’d climbed
the ranks by brutal and violent means
Swore to his men by the stroke of
twelve they would see blood flowing free.
Dark clouds rolled in, the crowds
grew thin, the speeches drew to a close
When Bonfield’s men marched to Haymarket Square
Who threw the bomb that killed
Degan, who knows? It wasn’t the men who were tried
But Parsons and friends they took
the stand while their wives and children cried.
The papers screamed as one for the
deaths of “the monsters, the killers and fiends”
Who had to stand trial for
reckless words they’d spoke for the working man.
The foes of freedom tried to build a bridge between speech
and bombs
So the jury sentenced seven good men and the deed was smiled
upon.
Labor in chains stood on the scaffold for backing workers’
rights.
The voice of freedom strangled that day, its silence grew in
might.
The Chicago Martyrs gave their lives for the sacred right of
words
And Parsons said before he died, “Let the voice of the
people be heard.”
“Let the voice of the people be heard.”
--Kathryn Atwood
--Kathryn Atwood
