THE LOCKOUT 1913 (Paul O’Brien)


For months we’ve been striking for wages and rights

The unions are helping the workers unite

There are men on the streets hanging in groups

Watching the women begging for soup

Faces are drawn and shoulders they’re bent

Playing pitch and toss with money they’ve lent


There’s nothing to sell

and there’s nothing to pawn

And nothing to Do

while the lockout goes on


Early this morning the bailiffs arrived

We bolted the doors, took the children inside

They’re throwing the Kavanagh’s out of their home

And breaking up every stick that they own

The windows are shut and the curtains are drawn

God damn the eyes of the scabs looking on


Murphy the businessman’s wringing his hands

He won’t let the Union be thwarting his plans

His blacklegs get fat on the money they make

And he’s hoping that soon the workers will break

The papers he owns make villains of men

He’s sent them to hell, but they’ll rise again!


When our brothers in England refused the call

The battle was lost and the unions did fall

The strike it was broken by hunger and fear

By treason and traitors and children’s tears

The workers have lost but the bosses are shamed

They’ve sent us to hell, but we’ll rise again!