1913 Massacree Woody Guthrie

Capo 2nd fret

(A) Take a trip with me in (E)nineteen thir(A)teen
To (D)Calumet, (D/C#)Michigan, in the (E/B)copper coun(A)try.
I'll take you to a place called I(D)talian (A)Hall
Where the miners are having their (E)big Christmas (A)ball.

I'll take you through a door, and (E)up a high (A)stairs,
And (D)singing and (D/C#)dancing is (E/B)heard every(A)where,
I'll let you shake hands with the (D)people you (A)see,
And watch the kids dance round that (E)big Christmas (A)tree.

There's talking and laughing and (E)songs in the (A)air,
And the (D)spirit of (D/C#)Christmas is (E/B)there every(A)where,
Before you know it, you're (D)friends with us (A)all
And you're dancing around and a(E)round in the (A)hall.

You ask about work and you (E)ask about (A)pay;
And they'll (D)tell you they (D/C#)make less than a (E/B)dollar a (A)day,
Working their copper claims and (D)risking their (A)lives,
So it's fun to spend Christmas with the (E)children and (A)wives.

A little girl sits down by the (E)Christmas tree (A)lights
To (D)play the pi(D/C#)ano, so you (E/B)gotta keep (A)quiet.
To hear all this fun, you would (D)not rea(A)lize
That the copper-boss thug-men are (E)milling out(A)side.

The copper-boss thugs stick their (E)heads in the (A)door,
And (D)one of them (D/C#)yelled and he (E/B)screamed, "There's a (A)fire!"
A lady, she hollered, "There's (D)no such a (A)thing!
Keep on with your party, there's (E)no such a (A)thing."

A few people rushed, and it was (E)only a (A)few
"It's (D)just the (D/C#)thugs and the (E/B)scabs fooling (A)you."
A man grabbed his daughter and he (D)carried her (A)down,
But the thugs held the door and he (E)could not get (A)out.

And then others followed, about a (E)hundred or (A)more,
But (D)most every(D/C#)body re(E/B)mained on the (A)floor.
The gun-thugs, they laughed at their (D)murderous (A)joke,
While the children were smothered on the (E)stair by the (A)door.

Such a terrible sight I (E)never did (A)see,
We (D)carried our (D/C#)children back (E/B)up to their (A)tree.
The scabs outside still (D)laughed at their (A)spree,
And the children that died there were (E)seventy-(A)three.

The piano played a (E)slow funeral (A)tune,
And the (D)town was lit (D/C#)up by a (E/B)cold Christmas (A)moon,
The parents they cried, and the (D)miners they (A)moaned,
"See what your greed for (E)money has (A)done." (D) (A)

© Woody Guthrie, All Rights Reserved

This is mainly Arlo Guthrie´s version

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