Saturday, August 27, 2011

happy labor day . . .



When I was just a little thing
I used to love parades.
With banners, bands, red balloons,
and maybe lemonade.
When I came home one May Day,
my neighbour’s father said,
“Them marchers is all commies.
Tell me kid, are you a Red?”

Well I didn’t know just what he meant-
my hair back then was brown.
Our house was plain red brick-
like most others in the town.
So I went and asked my momma
why our neighbour called me red.
My mummy took me on her knee
and this is what she said,

“Well ya ain’t done nothing
if ya ain’t been called a Red.
If you marched or agitated,
then you’re bound to hear it said.
So you might as well ignore it
or love the word instead.
Cuz ya ain’t been doing nothing
if ya ain’t been called a Red.”

When I was growing up,
had my troubles I suppose.
When someone took exception
to my face or to my clothes.
Or tried to cheat me on the job
or hit me on the head.
When I organized to fight back,
why the stinkers called me Red

But ya ain’t done nothing
if ya ain’t been called a Red
if you marched or agitated,
then you’re bound to hear it said.
So you might as well ignore it
or love the word instead.
Cuz ya ain’t been doing nothing
if ya ain’t been called a Red.

When I was living on my own,
one apartment that I had.
Had a lousy rotten landlord
Let me tell you he was bad.
But when he tried to throw me out,
I rubbed my hands and said,
“You haven’t seen a struggle
if you haven’t fought a Red!”

And ya ain’t done nothing
if ya ain’t been called a Red.
If you marched or agitated,
then you’re bound to hear it said.
So you might as well ignore it
or love the word instead.
Cuz ya ain’t been doing nothing
if ya ain’t been called a Red.

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