John D.’s Soliloquy (Charles Scurlock)

“John D.’s Soliloquy” Sheet Music (pdf).
“John D.’s Soliloquy” Karaoke (midi with lyrics).

Lyrics: Charles Scurlock.
Tune: “Auld Lang Syne.”


Ten million workers sweat and toil,
Increasing my wealth and fame,
With wages small, but I tell them all
Our int’rest is the same.
Their leaders all repeat my words,
And politics hold sway,
Which pleases me, as I like to see
Them vote in the same old way.

The grub is soaring out of sight,
And clothing’s extra high,
And house rents upwards take their course
And to the heavens fly.
While wages take the toboggan route
And downward, down they go.
So, working folk, when winter comes,
May have to live on snow.

For some stand pat for Democrat
And some for the G. O. P.,

But both will use the riot gun
Whene’er it pleases me.
Or split their force in the great sham fight,
For none understand the game.
So, whichever wins of my faithful twins,
I “boodle” just the same.

The grub is soaring out of sight,
And clothing’s extra high,
And house rents upwards take their course
And to the heavens fly.
While wages take the toboggan route
And downward, down they go.
So, working folk, when winter comes,
May have to live on snow.

They cast their vote for the twelve-hour boss
And strike for an eight-hour day,
Which cheers me so that I overflow
With mirth and reduce their pay.
They strike like fools, and they vote like seals
And land in the big bull-pen.
Hence, I laugh, “Ha! Ha!” but my int’rests are
The same as the working men.

The grub is soaring out of sight,
And clothing’s extra high,
And house rents upwards take their course
And to the heavens fly.
While wages take the toboggan route
And downward, down they go.
So, working folk, when winter comes,
May have to live on snow.

The Industrial Workers is all I fear
in this land of graft and fake.
If I can’t prevent their gath’ring here
to the woods I’ll have to take.
As long as they play with my ballot box,
My sides will shake with glee;
When they organize to enforce their rights,
O, then, “Skidoo” for me.

The grub is soaring out of sight,
And clothing’s extra high,
And house rents upwards take their course
And to the heavens fly.
While wages take the toboggan route
And downward, down they go.
So, working folk, when winter comes,
May have to live on snow.


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