SONG OF MY DA
(words and music by Paul O'Brien, Ireland)

My father, a carter on the dockside in Dublin,
When the hours of work were (from) dawn until dark.
His only pleasures, the love of my mother,
A pint on a Sunday and a stroll in the park.

The big man came then and he founded the Union,
My da agreed with him and stood on his side,
He shared Larkin's vision that all working people
Must never bow down, but stand up in pride.

They lived through those bad days, and Christ! They were sad days.
He often went home with a cut on his head;
My ma gave him comfort, attended his wounds
Saying, "We must stick it out or we're better off dead!"

When the bosses called on them to fight the Great War Game,
He answered, "We're fighting on here at home,
Your cause is profit, your weapons are guns,
But ours is the Union, our cause is our own."

They lived for the three score and a bit more,
Both are now dead their spirit's alive.
In the words they passed on that I tell you now, son:
"Demand what is yours or you'll never survive!"



The `big man' is James Larkin, founder of the Irish Transport and General Worker's
Union, 1908; chief speaker at Joe Hill's funeral in Chicago; arrested in the 1919
Palmer Raids and imprisoned for three years in N.Y. on a `criminal anarchy' conviction
before returning to Ireland.

(from the "Little Red Songbook," 36th edition, 1995)


@father @labor @union
filename[ SONGDA
ML JRO
Oct00

^^