When I was in college, we had a fine book of conservative folksongs. One began:

We are the jolly Pinkertons, we go from town to town,
We drink our beer and have no fear, and club the workers down!
How we hate their organizers! All this trouble is their fault.
Let us take their pious preaching with at least one grain of salt.

And another:

I don't want your Union, mister,
I don't want your David Becks.
All I want's your million dollars,
Then I'll wring your scrawny necks!

Who says conservatives have no soul? Not me!