Here's a couple more from my draft housing songbook:

Words and music by Bryant C. French
Cleveland People's Songs © 1947

Out of Your Pocket

When I go buy some groceries,
I shell out lots of dough;
Oh, won't somebody tell me,
Please, where does the money go?
I never get a taste of meat.
And, boy, I'm getting bored,
'Cause every single chop and steak's
The one I can't afford.

Chorus:

Out of your pocket, out of your pocket,
Oh, where does the money go?
It goes into the pocket, into the pocket,
Into the pocket of the guys who've got the dough!

My rent is high, my cash is low,
And I'm caught in between;
My landlord drives the longest,
Fastest car you ever seen;
My walls are thin, my carpets too,
My ceilings are like sieves,
But you should see the lovely mansion,
Where my landlord lives. (CHO)

It doesn't seem quite fair to me
That I should dig so deep,
To pay a guy who makes a half
A million in his sleep;
I even can't afford a beer,
For me it's pretty high,
Because I'm paying off my boss'
Fancy scotch and rye. (CHO)

They tell me it's monopolies
Own everything I see;
So I'll be on the market soon,
'Cause they own most of me;
And after they have processed me,
And wrapped me up so nice,
They'll sell me right back to myself
At some God-awful price. (CHO)


Words and music by Tom Glazer © 1946
Adapted by Johanna Halbeisen & Cambridge Ad Hoc Political Chorus, 1976
Tune of chorus: traditional The Old Gray Mare

A Dollar Ain't a Dollar

I was feeling kind of hungry so I thought I'd buy some bread,
And I went into the corner grocery store,
I took out the usual money, but the grocer shook his head,
'Cause a dollar ain't a dollar anymore.

Chorus:

Oh, a dollar bill don't buy what it used to,
Don't buy what it used to, don't buy what it used to;
No, a dollar bill don't buy what it used to,
'Cause a dollar ain't a dollar anymore.

Now I live in a rooming house, my room is awful small,
As a matter of fact, it's only two by four;
Then the landlord raised the rent, and now I'm living in the wall,
'Cause a dollar ain't a dollar anymore. (CHO)

Well, I'm living here in Cambridge where the rents are mighty steep,
And the landlord comes a-knocking at my door;
He says, "To pay my taxes, I have to raise your rent."
But we ain't gonna pay him anymore.

I'm sitting in the kitchen scraping lead paint off the wall,
When I hear another knock upon the door;
"To maintain my high-rise profits, I will raise your rent again."
But we ain't gonna pay him anymore.

The rent board had decided long before we aired our woes,
That the landlords have to keep their pockets full;
They don't care if ours are empty or if the house is cold,
We ain't gonna pay them anymore.

Now we all are organizing in our buildings, on our blocks,
To fight this rent increase that they've imposed;
And when we get together and collectively say "NO!"
We can tell the landlords where to go.

Cheerily,
Charley Noble