And here's the Charlie King song I was talking about:

BRING BACK THE EIGHT-HOUR DAY
(Charlie King)

My job makes me crazy; I'm always behind,
Even though I am not one to shirk,
And some fuzzy folksinger repeats in my mind
That my life should be more than my work.
Well, I like the work that I do.
I don't mind earning my pay,
But there's so much to do when the work day is through.
Bring back the eight-hour day.
C GC F C / F C - G / CG C F C / F C G C

Say you work at a white-collar job.
You get paid at a fixed monthly rate,
But you come in for meetings a half-hour early;
You're working a full hour late.
Then you sit for an hour in traffic
With the rest of the overtime drones.
There's a latchkey kid you must chase off to bed
'Fore you eat a cold supper alone.

CHORUS: Oh, bring back the eight-hour day.
When did we give it away?
There's so much to do when the work day is through.
Bring back the eight-hour day.
C G C F C / F C G C

There's a factory worker we know.
Joe Hill called him "Mr. Block."
If the foreman forgot him, he'd work 'til he dropped
And he'd never punch out on the clock.
Now they lay off ten workers a week.
Some are working half-time with no frills.
Mr Block doesn't care; he's got money to spare.
Let the rest of the world go to hell!

Well, did you know that the workers in Flint
Went on strike to climb out of this hole?
Where half the town works sixty hours a week
While the other half rots on the dole?
What good is a double-time check
When your town and your family is shot?
We need some enjoyment; we want full employment.
We will not be bullied or bought
We say: CHORUS

When I was a kid, mom stayed home
And we lived on dad's blue-collar pay.
Our standard of living was decent and sweet,
Just as good as what I've got today.
Now my wife has a good-paying job,
And me, well, I'm doing OK,
But we're putting out ninety-nine hours a week.
Tell me who the hell's getting my pay?
Hey: CHORUS

They've got cellular phones for your car.
They've got notebook PC's for your lap.
If you crawl off to sleep you stay close to your beeper.
Now why do we stand for this crap?
They tell you you've got to compete.
No! we're tired from footing the bill.
Eight hours for work, eight hours for rest,
Eight hours for what we will.

A hundred and ten years ago,
In Chicago in Haymarket Square,
They gathered from shipyards, from mine and from mill,
Just to march in the sun and the air.
They'd been slaving from dawn until dusk
But not on the first of May,
'Cause you can't smell the flowers when you're working twelve hours,
So they struck for an eight-hour day.

Hey, bring back the eight-hour day.
Bring back the five-day week.
When did we give it away?
How did it become an antique?
I like the work that I do.
I don't mind earning my pay,
But there's so much to do when the work day is through
Bring back the eight-hour day.


Charlie King
© 1994 Charlie King, Pied Asp Music/BMI. On his Inside Out.