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Nels Peterson

"The Busick Injunction" (karaoke)

"The Busick Injunction" (sheet music)


As I was selling paper on the San Pedro Streets one day,

A harness Bull walked up to me, and I could hear him say,

"Have you got this injunction yet? How long are you in town?"

He served me with the paper, and my name, he did put down.

 

Busick, Busick, chronic rheumatic,

Busick, Busick, cannot make it stick.

Serve your fake injunctions; throw us in the can.

We don't recognize yon printed paper sham.

 

Next day, they came and pinched us, and they locked us in their jail;

They took us up for hearing; we refused release on bail;

We'll fill their jails and Bull-Pens (that's the one and only means),

Although they'll make us have to live on Epsom salts and beans.

 

Busick, Busick, chronic rheumatic,

Busick, Busick, cannot make it stick.

Serve your fake injunctions; throw us in the can.

We don't recognize yon printed paper sham.

 

They take us up for trial, and the Bull gets in his slam;

The Jury is composed of members of the Ku Klux Klan;

The 'Cutor paces back and forth; his gun is at his hip;

The Judge pronounces sentence: it's a six months' trip.

 

Busick, Busick, chronic rheumatic,

Busick, Busick, cannot make it stick.

Serve your fake injunctions; throw us in the can.

We don't recognize yon printed paper sham.

 

We Wobblies in the courtroom take in all this comedy;

We know we haven't got a chance in this Plutocracy.

We march right back into the jail (a smile on every face);

We know there're Wobs in Pedro who will surely take our place.

 

Busick, Busick, chronic rheumatic,

Busick, Busick, cannot make it stick.

Serve your fake injunctions; throw us in the can.

We don't recognize yon printed paper sham.

 

More Wobblies will be coming into Pedro every day;

They're going to sell the papers 'cause they're coming here to stay;

They're going to win this paper fight in spite of Busick's rules,

And Hammond cannot stop the Wobblies with his Red Squad Tools.

 

Busick, Busick, chronic rheumatic,

Busick, Busick, cannot make it stick.

Serve your fake injunctions; throw us in the can.

We don't recognize yon printed paper sham.


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