Fleurs du Mal Magazine
Or see the index
Der Rabe Ralf
Der Rabe Ralf
will will hu hu
dem niemand half
still still du du
half sich allein
am Rabenstein
will will still still
hu hu
Die Nebelfrau
will will hu hu
nimmt’s nicht genau
still still du du
sie sagt nimm nimm
‘s ist nicht so schlimm
will will still still
hu hu
Doch als ein Jahr
will will hu hu
vergangen war
still still du du
da lag im Rot
der Rabe tot ,
will will still still
du du
Christian Morgenstern
(1871-1914)
Der Rabe Ralf
• fleursdumal.nl magazine
More in: Archive M-N, Archive M-N, Christian Morgenstern, Department of Ravens & Crows, Morgenstern, Christian
52nd Poetry International Festival Rotterdam
From Friday 10 to Sunday 12 June 2022
• fleursdumal.nl magazine
More in: # Music Archive, # Punk poetry, #Modern Poetry Archive, - Audiobooks, - Book Lovers, AUDIO, CINEMA, RADIO & TV, Awards & Prizes, CONCRETE , VISUAL & SOUND POETRY, LIGHT VERSE, MUSEUM OF LOST CONCEPTS - invisible poetry, conceptual writing, spurensicherung, Poetry International, TRANSLATION ARCHIVE
The Girl Question
A little girl was working in a big department store,
Her little wage for food was spent; her dress was old and tore.
She asked the foreman for a raise, so humbly and so shy,
And this is what the foreman did reply:
CHORUS:
Why don’t you get a beau?
Some nice old man, you know!
He’ll give you money if you treat him right.
If he has lots of gold,
Don’t mind if he is old.
Go! Get some nice old gentleman tonight.
The little girl then went to see the owner of the store,
She told the story that he’d heard so many times before.
The owner cried: “You are discharged! Oh, my, that big disgrace,
A ragged thing like you around my placel”
The little girl she said: “I know a man that can’t be wrong,
I’ll go and see the preacher in the church where I belong.”
She told him she was down and out and had no place to stay.
And this is what the holy man did say:
Next day while walking round she saw a sign inside a hall,
It read: THE ONE BIG UNION WILL GIVE LIBERTY TO ALL.
She said: I’ll join that union, and I’ll surely do my best,
And now she’s gaily singing with the rest:
FINAL CHORUS:
Oh, Workers do unite!
To crush the tyrant’s might,
The ONE BIG UNION BANNER IS UNFURLED —
Come slaves from every land,
Come join this fighting band,
It’s named INDUSTRIAL WORKERS OF THE WORLD .
Joe Hill
(1879-1915)
The Girl Question
(song)
• fleursdumal.nl magazine
More in: # Music Archive, Archive G-H, Joe Hill, Workers of the World
Everybody’s Joining It
Fellow workers, can’t you hear,
There is something in the air.
Everywhere you walk everybody talks
‘Bout the I. W. W.
They have got a way to strike
That the master doesn’t like —
Everybody sticks,
That’s the only trick,
Al are joining now.
CHORUS:
Everybody’s joining it, joining what? Joining it!
Everybody’s joining it, joining what? Joining it!
One Big Union, that’s the workers’ choice,
One Big Union, that’s the only choice,
One Big Union, that’s the only noise,
One Big Union, shout with all your voice;
Make a noise, make a noise, make a noise, boys,
Everybody’s joining it, joining what? Joining it!
Everybody’s joining it, joining what? Joining it!
Joining in this union grand,
Boys and girls in every land;
All the workers hand in hand —
Everybody’s joining it now.
The’ Boss is feeling mighty blue,
He don’t know just what to do.
We have got his goat, got him by the throat,
Soon he’ll work or go starving.
Join I. W. W.
Don’t let bosses trouble you,
Come and join with us —
Everybody does —
You’ve got nothing to lose.
Will the One Big Union Grow?
Mister Bonehead wants to know.
Well! What do you think, of that funny gink,
Asking such foolish questions?
Will it grow? Well! Look a here,
Brand new locals everywhere,
Better take a hunch,
Join the fighting bunch,
Fight for Freedom and Right.
Joe Hill
(1879-1915)
Everybody’s Joining It
Song
• fleursdumal.nl magazine
More in: # Music Archive, Archive G-H, Joe Hill, Workers of the World
What we want
(Tune: “Rainbow”)
We want all the workers in the world
to organize
Into a great big union grand
And when we all united stand
The world for workers we’ll demand
If the working class could only see
and realize
What mighty power labor has
Then the exploiting master class
It would soon fade away.
CHORUS
Come all ye toilers that work
for wages,
Come from every land,
Join the fighting band,
In one union grand,
Then for the workers we’ll make upon
this earth a paradise
When the slaves get wise
and organize.
We want the sailor and the tailor
and the lumberjacks,
And all the cooks and Laundry girls,
We want the guy that dives for pearls,
The pretty maid that’s making curls,
And the baker and staker
and the chimneysweep
We want the man that’s slinging hash,
The child that works for little cash
In one union grand.
We want the tinner and the skinner
and the chambermaid,
We want the man with spikes on soles,
We want the man that’s digging holes,
We want the man that’s climbing poles,
And the tracker and the mucker
and the hired man
And all the factory girls and clerks,
Yes, we want every one that works,
In one union grand.
Joe Hill
(1879-1915)
What we want
Song
• fleursdumal.nl magazine
More in: # Music Archive, Archive G-H, Joe Hill, Workers of the World
Where the Fraser River Flows
(Tune: “Where the River Shannon Flows”)
Fellow workers pay attention to what I’m going to mention,
For it is the fixed intention of the Workers of the World.
And I hope you’ll all be ready, true-hearted, brave and steady,
To gather ’round our standard when the Red Flag is unfurled.
CHORUS
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 the 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.
New the boss the law is stretching, bulls and pimps he’s fetching,
And they are a fine collection, as 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.
Why should any worker be without the necessities of life when ten men can produce enough for a hundred?
Joe Hill
(1879-1915)
Where the Fraser River Flows
(song)
Songs of the Workers (15th edition) (1919)
Industrial Workers of the World
Where the Fraser River Flows by Joe Hill (uncredited). Onward, “One Big Union!”
The tune to this song, “Where the River Shannon Flows” (1906) written by James J. Russell.
• fleursdumal.nl magazine
More in: # Music Archive, Archive G-H, Joe Hill, Workers of the World
Workers of the World,
Awaken
Workers of the world, awaken!
Break your chains. demand your rights.
AII the wealth you make is taken
By exploiting parasites.
Shall you kneel in deep submission
From your cradles to your graves?
ls the height of your ambition
To be good and willing slaves?
CHORUS:
Arise, ye prisoners of starvation!
Fight for your own emancipation;
Arise, ye slaves of every nation.
In One Union grand.
Our little ones for bread are crying,
And millions are from hunger dying;
The end the means is justifying,
‘Tis the final stand.
If the workers take a notion,
They can stop all speeding trains;
Every ship upon the ocean
They can tie with mighty chains.
Every wheel in the creation,
Every mine and every mill ,
Fleets and armies of the nation,
Will at their command stand still.
Join the union, fellow workers,
Men and women, side by side;
We will crush the greedy shirkers
Like a sweeping, surging tide;
For united we are standing,
But divided we will fall;
Let this be our understanding —
“All for one and one for all.”
Workers of the world, awaken!
Rise in all your splendid might;
Take the wealth that you are making,
It belongs to you by right.
No one will for bread be crying,
We’ll have freedom, love and health.
When the grand red flag is flying
In the Workers’ Commonwealth.
Joe Hill
(1879-1915)
Workers of the World, Awaken
(song)
• fleursdumal.nl magazine
More in: # Music Archive, Archive G-H, Joe Hill, Workers of the World
To The Sun
Great Phoebus ! thou on whom we all depend
For countless joys which thou alone canst send,
A saturated mortal to thee speaks,
And for an answer to this question seeks —
Where hast thou been through all these sloppy weeks?
Oh ! by sweet thoughts of punt and shade and pipe.
By horrid dreams of Fruit far, far from ripe,
By hopes of pleasures culled throughout the “Long,”
By thoughts of Margate with its ni^er song.
By trips proposed upon the “Continong”;
Shine forth, O mighty Sun ! and turn thy face
On match, regatta, party, pic-nic, race;
Dispel the gloom that o’er our island lowers,
And people all the land with countless flowers,
And let us have at least some rainless hours.
Let Bobbies murmur in the Street of Bow,
And swear that on their beat they will not go:
Let Postmen fill our souls with endless fears
That correspondence may get in arrears :
Let thoughts of striking fill our Grenadiers :
Let all these cease from labour, if they like ;
But thou, great Sun-god, go not thou on strike!
Montague Horatio Mostyn Turtle Pigott
(1865–1927)
To The Sun (Poem)
•fleursdumal.nl magazine
More in: Archive O-P, Archive O-P, Mostyn Turtle Pigott
The Rebel Girl
There are women of many descriptions
In this queer world, as everyone knows.
Some are living in beautiful mansions,
And are wearing the finest of clothes.
There are blue blooded queens and princesses,
Who have charms made of diamonds and pearl;
But the only and thoroughbred lady
Is the Rebel Girl.
CHORUS:
That’s the Rebel Girl, that’s the Rebel Girl!
To the working class she’s a precious pearl.
She brings courage, pride and joy
To the fighting Rebel Boy.
We’ve had girls before, but we need some more
In the Industrial Workers of the World.
For it’s great to fight for freedom
With a Rebel Girl.
Yes, her hands may be hardened from labor,
And her dress may not be very fine;
But a heart in her bosom is beating
That is true to her class and her kind.
And the grafters in terror are trembling
When her spite and defiance she’ll hurl;
For the only and thoroughbred lady
Is the Rebel Girl.
Joe Hill
(1879-1915)
The Rebel Girl
Song
• fleursdumal.nl magazine
More in: # Music Archive, Archive G-H, Joe Hill, Workers of the World
Last Will
My will is easy to decide,
For there is nothing to divide.
My kind don’t need to fuss and moan —
“Moss does not cling to a rolling stone.”
My body? Ah, If I could choose,
I would to ashes it reduce,
And let the merry breezes blow
My dust to where some flowers grow.
Perhaps some fading flower then
Would come to life and bloom again.
This is my last and final will.
Good luck to all of you.
Joe Hill
(1879-1915)
Last Will
Written in his cell on the eve of his execution
Joe Hill was sentenced to death after being accused of the murder of two shopkeepers. His conviction is often disputed by historians. On November 18, 1915, one day before his execution, he wrote his last will. On that same day, he sent a telegram to fellow IWW member Bill Haywood, telling him: “Don’t waste time mourning – Organize!”
• fleursdumal.nl magazine
More in: # Music Archive, - Archive Tombeau de la jeunesse, Archive G-H, Archive G-H, In Memoriam, Joe Hill
Ta-Ra-Ra Boom De-Ay
I had a job once threshing wheat, worked sixteen hours with hands and feet.
And when the moon was shining bright, they kept me working all the night.
One moonlight night, I hate to tell, I “accidentally” slipped and fell.
My pitchfork went right in between some cog wheels of that thresh-machine.
Ta-ra-ra-boom-de-ay!
It made a noise that way.
And wheels and bolts and hay,
Went flying every way.
That stingy rube said, “Well!
A thousand gone to hell.”
But I did sleep that night,
I needed it all right.
Next day that stingy rube did say, “I’ll bring my eggs to town today;
You grease my wagon up, you mutt, and don’t forget to screw the nut.”
I greased his wagon all right, but I plumb forgot to screw the nut,
And when he started on that trip, the wheel slipped off and broke his hip.
Ta-ra-ra-boom-de-ay!
It made a noise that way,
That rube was sure a sight,
And mad enough to fight;
His whiskers and his legs
Were full of scrambled eggs;
I told him, “That’s too bad —
I’m feeling very sad.”
And then that farmer said, “You turk! I bet you are an I-Won’t Work.”
He paid me off right there, By Gum! So I went home and told my chum.
Next day when threshing did commence, my chum was Johnny on the fence;
And ‘pon my word, that awkward kid, he dropped his pitchfork, like I did.
Ta-ra-ra-boom-de-ay!
It made a noise that way,
And part of that machine
Hit Reuben on the bean.
He cried, “Oh me, oh my;
I nearly lost my eye.”
My partner said, “You’re right —
It’s bedtime now, good night.”
But still that rube was pretty wise, these things did open up his eyes.
He said, “There must be something wrong; I think I work my men too long.”
He cut the hours and raised the pay, gave ham and eggs for every day,
Now gets his men from union hall, and has no “accidents” at all.
Ta-ra-ra-boom-de-ay!
That rube is feeling gay;
He learned his lesson quick,
Just through a simple trick.
For fixing rotten jobs
And fixing greedy slobs,
This is the only way,
Ta-ra-ra-boom-de-ay!
Joe Hill
(1879-1915)
Ta-Ra-Ra Boom De-Ay
Song
• fleursdumal.nl magazine
More in: # Music Archive, - Archive Tombeau de la jeunesse, Archive G-H, Joe Hill, MUSEUM OF PUBLIC PROTEST, Workers of the World
POËZIEWEEK IN NEDERLAND EN VLAANDEREN 2020
nog t/m 5 februari 2020
# meer informatie op website poëzieweek:
https://www.poezieweek.com/
More in: #More Poetry Archives, - Bookstores, AUDIO, CINEMA, RADIO & TV, City Poets / Stadsdichters, CLASSIC POETRY, CONCRETE , VISUAL & SOUND POETRY, EXPERIMENTAL POETRY, LIGHT VERSE, MODERN POETRY, Poëzieweek, STREET POETRY, TRAVESTY & POETRY
Thank you for reading Fleurs du Mal - magazine for art & literature