I was once a teenage pinko— but did you know I was a SINGING punk-folkie-adolescent-Marxist, to boot?
My old picket-line buddy, Joel Levine, sent me a copy of a little mimeographed book I treasure: The Socialist Songboook.
This is a piece of Berkeley ephemera you have to love.
Here's your very own PDF edition.
Sure, it's handy to quote The Internationale or La Marseillaise— but the fun really begins with some of the Old and New Left Parodies that are rampant in this slim volume.
I'd love to know the melody line to this little number that is reminiscent of Cole Porter:
I'm a dialectic dope;
How does Marx explain romance and devotion?
Do I need a purgin' for this anti-virgin urgin'?
What's the Party Line on Love?
Other titles you have to crack an octave to believe include:
"Stalin— Why I Did It,"
"It's Sister Jenny's Turn to Throw the Bomb," and,
"That Trotskyite Mammy of Mine."
I get choked up reading some of Joe Hill's* lyrics, such as his homage to Elizabeth Gurley Flynn:
There are women of many descriptions
In this queer world, as everyone knows
Some are living in beautiful mansions, and wearing the finest of clothes.
There are blue-blooded queens and princesses
Who have charms made of diamonds and pearl
But the only and throughbred Lady
is the Rebel Girl
Oh, this is no fun if you can't hear what I'm talking about... Here's Greg Brown, Gillian Welch, and Ani DiFranco singing harmony on "Dump the Bosses Off Your Back!" Goose bumps...
Are you poor, forlorn, and hungry
Are there lots of things you lack?
Is your life made up of misery?
Then dump the bosses off your back.
Are your clothes all patched and tattered?
Are you living in a shack?
Would you like your troubles scattered?
Then dump the bosses off your back.
Are you almost split asunder?
Loaded like a long-eared jack?
Boob!— why don't you buck like thunder?
And dump the bosses off your back.
All the agonies you suffer...
You can end with one good whack!
Stiffen up, you orn'ry duffer,
And dump the bosses off your back.
Those are lyrics by Wobbly John Brill, having fun with the old gospel song, "Take it to the Lord in Prayer."
*Hill's wiki biography ends thusly:
"Hill was executed by firing squad on November 19, 1915, and his last word was "Fire!"
Just prior to his execution, he wrote to Bill Haywood, an IWW leader, saying,
"Goodbye Bill. I die like a true blue rebel. Don't waste any time in mourning. Organize... Could you arrange to have my body hauled to the state line to be buried? I don't want to be found dead in Utah."
Photo: by Joel Levine.
I can't find one single photo of my old gang, The Red Tide newspaper staff, actually singing. But here we are, ON THE WAY to a picket line where we sang until we were hoarse. One of the people in this photo is now one of the most crazy right-wing Republicans you've ever seen... but I will shut up right there.
