The Strike That Failed

Scene One: Chorus of Revolt

We're sick o' this fuddle an' foolin'; we're done wi' the rotten place!
McMuirlan's are losin' their business; they're comin' in last in the race.
They're chuckin' the ingine buildin'; they've took to the column an' truss;
They're makin' the tin, ay! rakin' it in, an' never a thought of us!

Men's work for a small boy's wages; that's wot we 'ave each day;
We're damned if we stop in a blasted shop on a stinkin' ten bob pay!
We ought 'o be earnin'  our livin', and puttin' a little bit by;
They're no right ter cuss at young 'uns like us, an' then give us columns to fry!

There's six of us leavin' termorrer, six of us oin' to strike,
An' Teddy, the oldest, is foreman, a job that 'e don't quite like!
We've got it all down on paper, the words as 'e 'as to say: --
"Respectable turnin' an' fittin', an' an extra shillin' a day;
"A little less jaw from the foreman; a little less cheek from the clerks,
An' a little more opportunity to 'ave some bleedin' larks!

Scene Two: Solo of Abnegation

It's over, thank 'eaven, it's over! We're back to the turnin' again;
In future we'll grumble in private, an' leave the strikin' to men.
I thought we'd never do it; upstairs it sounded like fake. --
Take it from us who've bin through it -- a carpetin' takes the cake!

We crep' through the orfice like convic's; we opened the wrong door twice --
If we'd only 'ad Johnny to 'elp us, an' give us a bit of advice,
We might 'ave managed it better, an' made a bit of a show,
An' p'r'aps 'ad the Guvner smilin', an' cawfin', an' sayin' "Jes' so!"

We was waitin' for Teddy, ter start 'is grievance an' calim;
Ready, o' course, to back 'im up, an' say "'ear, 'ear!" an' "Shame!"
So we stood, like five little angles, patiently waitin' for Ted,
Who was backin' us into the passidge, an' wishin' to Christ 'e was dead!

"Git on!" we ses ter Teddy, "Give over!" 'e ses to us,
"Come up an' do the talkin', or don't make such a fuss!"
"Please, Sir!" 'e ses to the Guvner, but 'e never turned 'is head,
So we cawfed out loud together, an' Jo said "Strike me dead!"

"What's that?" ses the Guvner, an' Teddy went limp wi' fear.
"What in the name o' thunder are you six doin' 'ere?
'E took Ted by the collar, an' shook 'im like a rat,
While we, who 'adn't spoken, was clustered on the mat!
"What's this?" 'E grabbed the paper: "An extra shillin' a day!"
(I reckon the cheek of it fooled 'im; 'e 'adn't a word ter say.)

The sun came in through the skylight, an' Teddy looked small an' meek;
An' Billy began to blubber, an' Jo's left boot to creak.
I wondered 'ow Teddy was feelin' an' I thought I'd like ti run,
When the Govner said "Get back to yer lathes, or I'll sack yer, every one!"

A good deal more 'e mentioned as each of us took our 'ook,
But we never stopped to 'ear 'im, for each of us fairly shook.

We clatter'd down the staircase, we bust through the foldin' doors,
When we saw the foreman comin' so we ran be'ind the stores.
An' then, when all was quiet, we bunked to our lathes agen;
In future we'll grumble in private, an' leave the strikin' to men!

Did they sack us? No Sir, they didn't! Stop us? No, not at all!
We was havin' a fight on the Saturd'y night, in the Tivoli Music 'all!