Our Crazy Wisdom team member, Ed Morin, wrote this song inspired by the recent autoworker strike in the tradition of Woody Guthrie. Listen to it on our Crazy Wisdom YouTube Channel.
THE BALLAD OF THE LINE
About the time that I was born,
the floods washed out our corn.
Locusts and the Dust Bowl brought hard times.
When banks and companies fail,
your best meals are in jail.
Man, I’m tired—have you got a dime?
Hey Brother, don’t you give up—
the Lord will fill your cup.
They say Ford’s pays five dollars a day!
If you reach Detroit in time,
join the production line
and whistle your troubles away.
They hired us in our jeans,
then drove us like machines,
and for years we labored in a rage.
At the Rouge we fought Ford’s goons;
at Dodge Main we sat down
with Reuther and won a living wage.
Hey Brother, don’t give up now—
the Union wipes our brow.
We’re earning fifteen dollars a day.
Yes, you’ve reached Detroit in time,
come join the picket line,
and walk your money troubles away.
We built war planes and tanks
and opened up our ranks
to women and minorities.
Unions fought for civil rights
as the country set its sights
on bigger cars and prosperity.
Hey Brother, why give up now?
We’ve got benefits and how!
We’re makin’ more than fifty bucks a day.
Come on and work some overtime
on the line, line, line,
and laugh all your troubles away.
Oil crisis and recession
forced us into concessions:
Management had more chance to compete.
They outsourced parts with ease
to makers overseas,
then bargained us right out into the street.
Brother, we gave away the store
in nineteen eighty-four.
Foreign robots are receiving our pay.
I was afraid to strike that time.
Now where the hell’s our line?
I’m sorry we voted it away.
Hey Brother, don’t you give up—
The Lord will fill your cup.
They say Ford’s pays five dollars a day!
If you reach Detroit in time,
there’s unemployment lines
to whistle your troubles away.
Management’s remuneration
soared well above inflation,
leaving the working man behind.
We were hired in lower tiers,
pensions shrank in later years,
Detroit and the middle class declined.
Well, the union’s had enough;
we’re tired of the bosses’ guff.
We are rising to a brand-new day.
We want the bosses’ respect
with a living-wage paycheck,
and we’re not going to give it away.
This time, we’re not going to give it away.
We won’t give it away!
Copyright ©1988 & 2023 by Edward Morin