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The MUA Muse: Songs and poems from the pickets

by Mark Gregory
Paper for IASPM The International Association for the Study of Popular Music (1998) based on an article published in overland magazine (overland.151.1998) in their special MUA - HERE TO STAY supplement.

If you'd not sent the wharfies out, Without their rightful job, We might not have united in the way we did today, To celebrate our victories, this merry month of May, So call the next election and we working folk will say, Goodbye Howard and your thieving liberal mob.

John Warner's song "Tribute to John Howard" arrived in my email, shortly after he wrote it on the Sydney May Day march. Within a few minutes it had joined a dozen other "MUA Songs" on my "Union Songs" web site.

Union songs are a special interest of mine, one I date back to a Paul Robeson rendition of Joe Hill I learnt as a 10 year old! More recently, I began to build my "Union Songs" web site at the start of 1997, after some months of rehearsal with Bill Berry for a Blue Mountains Folk Festival union songs workshop. We concentrated on Australian union songs as much as we could, an extensive seam dating back a century or so. Lawson and Paterson were there of course along with Tex Morton, Dorothy Hewett, Helen Palmer and Merv Lilly, so too were the more contemporary works by folk revival songwriters like Don Henderson, Harry Robertson and many more.

In our workshop for the 1998 festival we also "showed off" a brand new song that Maurie Mulheron had written, a song about the wharfies called "Right That Time". By then my "Union Songs" web site had links to unions across the world and I was getting regular email from unionists in many countries including North America, Sweden, Britain, Thailand and Malaysia.

I had been aiming to expand and internationalise my collection of songs, hoping to learn something from traditions outside the Australian, British, Irish and North American traditions I had studied for years. I also hoped to get songs as they were being written. After Patrick sacked their workforce in a quasi military operation on April 7 that second wish came true. From that time it seemed each week brought a new harvest of songs about the Maritime Union of Australia fight for reinstatement.

Right That Time A song by Maurie Mulheron ©1998 They speak about it proudly, it's now union folklore How wharfies wouldn't load any pig-iron for war Japan was a threat so they walked off the job They wouldn't help the fascists for old Pig-iron Bob Chorus: They were right that time and they're right again now But the strength of one isn't much of a power So united they stand against all odds Fighting for us all against the little tin gods Indonesia's young and fighting to be free But the Dutch had different plans for their former colony When the people rose up with freedom on their lips The wharfies stopped loading any Dutch bound ships Korea was in trouble, overrun by the Yanks Wharfies told to load rifles, guns and tanks Why get involved in this bloody civil war? We're not gonna ship any weapons any more! Pig-iron Bob's back, says we're off to Vietnam Tugging his forelocks for good old Uncle Sam The seamen wouldn't work on the war ship 'Boonaroo' And the wharfies held the line when they sacked the ship's crew The struggle's moved on, mass sackings overnight The union's survival is the heart of the fight We'll defy your threats, your thugs and court We're standing united, no wharfie can be bought! History's on our side, we'll see this battle through There's too much at stake for the profits of the few Our fathers, before us, stood on every picket line Keep their mem'ries alive and we'll win every time. Last Chorus: They've been right ev'ry time and they're right again now But the strength of one isn't much of a power So united they stand against all odds Fighting for us all against the little tin gods

Maurie Mulheron, author of the play "One Word We" describing the life of Pete Seeger, wrote this song after hearing one of Peter Reith's diatribes against waterside workers in February; "After a bout of road rage" as he describes the muse that compelled him to write. He has since sung it many times on the various Patrick pickets, and he sang it at the Sydney May Day rally. The wharfies love the song and of course it has particular interest for a whole new generation who began to turn up to the extraordinary "community pickets".

A number of my own favourite union songs come from the Kentucky mines in the 1930's. Songs from Sara Ogan Gunning, Aunt Molly Jackson, Jim Garland and Florence Reece. I changed a few words of "Which Side Are You On?" and came up with the following song.

Join the MUA New words by Mark Gregory Come all of you good wharfies Good news to you I'll tell Of how that good old MUA Has come in here to dwell Chorus Join the MUA Come and join the MUA Join the MUA Come and join the MUA My daddy was a wharfie And I'm a wharfie's son I'm sticking to the MUA Till every battle's won On wharves around Australia There are no neutrals left You'll either be a union man Or a thug for the NFF Oh, workers can you stand it? Oh, tell me how you can Will you be a lousy scab Or will you be a man? When Patrick sacked the wharfies They thought it was a joke But world wide solidarity Is causing them to choke Don't scab for the bosses Don't listen to their lies Us working folks haven't got a chance Unless we organize

John Dengate, one of Australia's most revered songwriters, and a parodist without peer phoned Chris Kempster with a new song he'd written to the tune of "Abide With Me". Legend has it that the hymn was sung by the band as they went down with the Titanic, and it seems that Minister Reith may be caught in a similar kind of undertow as a result of his inability to unhitch himself from Patrick, so when Chris sent me the words I was only too happy to include it in my growing collection. Almost immediately I heard the song sung to great effect at the special Peter Reith picket in Wentworth Falls when 500 Blue Mountains residents came along to face the drizzle and an even grimmer Reith (the Grim Reither as one banner had it!).

I Can't Abide A song by John Dengate ©1998 I can't abide the government's front bench, send them away to the Germans or the French I can't abide Costello's shallow sneer - won't someone make the bastard disappear? I can't abide that bloody awful Kemp, bring back the gallows, the hangman and the hemp Take Peter Reith and dump him in the tide. Him I particularly can't abide Poor little John deserves our sympathy, born neath the star of mediocrity Pat his wee head and send him off to bed, then hide the key lest he abide with me I can't abide the government's ministry, Senator Vanstone's worse than dysentery Send her away without the least delay - dont pour the tea lest she abide with me Sink them the swine, an iceberg would be fine. Far, far away in distant Hudson Bay As they go down they'll warble while they drown, flat and off-key, they'll be despised by me I can't abide the government's front bench, send them away to the Germans or the French Take Peter Reith and dump him in the tide. Him I particularly can't abide

Scabs have long been the target and subject of union songs. Jack London penned the most famous description of scabs:

"When God had finished the rattlesnake, the toad, the vampire, He had some awful substance left with which he made a scab...
... the modern strikebreaker sells his birthright, his country, his wife, his children, and his fellow men for an unfilled promise from his employer, trust, or corporation"

Industrial Workers of the World organiser, songwriter and martyr Joe Hill wrote about scabs in songs such as Casey Jones. The pitmen from the mines of Newcastle in England had a particularly fierce song about them called "The Blackleg Miner". One verse ominously advises

So join the union while you may Dont wait till your dying day For that may not be far away You dirty blackleg miner

Geoff Francis and Peter Hicks, recent emigrants from the mainland to far away Tasmania, emailed me their new song on the subject

The Slimy Patrick's Scab Words by Geoff Francis & Peter Hicks. ©1998 Tune: works well with "The Sydney Market Boys" or try your own! There's vampire bats and sewer rats, there's pubic lice and crabs, But the lowest form of life on Earth is the slimy Patrick's scab. There's vampire bats and sewer rats, there's pubic lice and crabs, But the lowest form of life on Earth is the slimy Patrick's scab. An hour before the sun comes up, he crawls out of his pit, You wouldn't get too close to him for the smell of slime and ... other little bits, Beneath the cloak of darkness he sets off, all clad in black, To serve his wretched masters goes the slimy Patrick's scab. And when his treachery is done, on his knees he crawls back home, His kids don't want to know him, so he eats his tea alone, They haven't been to school for days, they're ashamed that he's their dad, "Tell me, what's your father do?". "He's a slimy Patrick's scab." There's vampire bats... He's not dared step inside a pub or an RSL for days, 'Cos when you're a slimy Patrick's scab the world don't seem too safe. He sits at home and counts his hoard to find out what he's worth, But what value would you put upon the lowest slime on Earth? Alas, accidents do happen, in the wharves and on the shore - A crash, a smash, a flash, a splash - and our scab's a scab no more, Nobody mourns his passing, no-one's even slightly sad, Upon his grave these words inscribed - "Here lies a Patrick's scab." There's vampire bats... So he walks up to the pearly gates where the heavenly bell he rings, Says he, "I've worked hard all my life, you'll surely let me in. "I've always done the boss's will, to have served him makes me proud, "So please give me my halo now, and my little fluffy cloud." Saint Peter slowly shakes his head and looks him in the face, "What makes you think that I've got room for scabs inside this place? "You've robbed your neighbour of his job and his children of their food, "You've stabbed your brothers in the back and betrayed your sisters too. "My angels would lay down their harps, do you think that I'm that mad?" And to burn in hell forever he despatched the Patrick's scab. There's vampire bats...

The authors added "We are pleased to donate this song to assist the MUA in their struggle. Please use it widely and pass it on. This song borrows proudly from folk history, and in particular from "Casey Jones, Union Scab." At the Sydney May Day rally, gathered on the historic "Hungry Mile", Peter Hicks was there to sing this song.

In the Australian tradition no songs loom larger than Waltzing Matilda and The Wild Colonial Boy. The swagman was very likely to have been a member of the young Shearers Union and while Donahue may not have been a member, the song about him inspires unionists to this day with its defiant lines like "I'll fight but never surrender said the Wild Colonial Boy". So it was no surprise to find parodies of those songs dealing with the wharfies' struggle as we approach the end of another century. The next two songs I found on a wharfies support web site in Melbourne, a site called "Songs and chants for the MUA & Community Assembly Picket Lines" at: http://www.users.bigpond.com/Takver/soapbox/muasongs.htm

The Fighting MUA Tune: the Wild Colonial Boy There was a foolish stevedore And Patricks was his name It was owned by a scab named Corrigan To our great nation's shame He was a liar and a cheat A puppet some may say But never could he bluff or beat The fighting MUA It was in the night that Patricks came Like burglars at their trade With guard dogs, scabs and Canberra spies Coming to their aid While Peter Reith and his little mate Fanned the flames all day In London, Cooktown and Dubai They'd smash the MUA Chorus So come away my Comrades On the wattle we'll have no stains We'll scorn to live in slavery Bound down by iron chains We'll link our arms and stand and fight Forever we shall try We'll fight beside our fighting mates The fighting MUA The judge in England said he could not Countenance this lot A nasty scheme was all worked out A filthy dirty plot And comrades from around the world Will now come to our aid To fight and organise Beside the fighting MUA.

Banjo Paterson knew a great deal about and was sympathetic to the struggles of workers in the Australia he was writing in. He may have been a lawyer but his attitude to scabs is as hostile as that of any militant unionist as he proved in his poem "The Bushman's Song" better known as "Travelling Down The Castlereagh"

I asked a cove for shearing once along the Marthaguy:
"We shear non-union here" says he. "I call it scab," says I

There is a theory that Paterson's Waltzing Matilda is an allegory that deals with the great shearers strike of the 1891 period. Whatever the case unionists and radicals in Australia have always claimed the song as their own and strengthened the words a little to more suit their needs as in "you'll never take me alive says he". So here almost exactly 100 years after the song's birth we find it being put to service for a new struggle.

Waltzing Matilda, 1998 New words by Rick Finney March 20 1998 Once a happy tradesman Worked by the waterside Under the shadow of a loading gantry And he sang as he worked And laboured by the waterside You'll come a waltzing matilda with me Chorus Waltzing Matilda, waltzing Matilda, You'll come a waltzing Matilda with me And he sang as he worked And laboured by the waterside You'll come a waltzing matilda with me Up came a Squatter Resplendent in hypocrisy Supported by the troopers Three by three Where's your union ticket What's that in your tucker bag You'll not work this waterside We're going to break your solidarity Up jumped the Wharfie And called to his brotherhood Never a "SCAB" You'll ever see me And he sang As he stood A picket of solidarity Never a Scab will you make me Funded by the taxpayers The Squatters formed a company Supported by corruption and more political hypocrisy And they whined as they formed "It's for all our society" Although few taxes paid At all do we Along came the judges Members of the exclusive legal fraternity You've not "closed shop" rights like us Cried they We're the guardians of the corrupt establishment It's been our trust for a century We'll allow no honest equality Staying as decadent pedophilic and kinky as we please Banned were the exports Handled by Squatter's hypocrisy Grain, wool and cattle Internationally And they sang as they stood Firm in international solidarity "We are sisters and brothers in Union. Never to be broken are we"

Another view of the judiciary comes from one of the most prolific of the

songwriters to have taken up the pen in the MUA cause, John Warner. His song "Justice Delayed" won immediate acclaim. Written prior to the Federal Court and High Court decisions, it's a powerful vehicle for the basic demand of the wharfies: reinstatement.

Justice Delayed A song by John Warner 25/4/98 ©1998 Tune: Mixture of Muckin' o' Geordie's Byre and Bonnie Dundee/Billy of Tea Justice delayed is justice denied, Four judges have ruled that the right's on our side, Now give us our jobs back and fling the gates wide, For justice delayed is justice denied. We've maintained the peace as we stood for our right, They brought in the dogs and armed thugs for the fight. They went to the courts and the courts ruled our way, Why are we still standing outside today? It's comic to hear business men crying poor, They can't pay fair wages yet they pay for the law, The law goes against them, as rightly it ought, And still they have money to try the next court. They say they can't pay us, the company's broke, And we'd all be laughing except it's no joke. They're still paying scabs on the big hired bus, But they've stripped all the assets, there's no cash for us. We're sick of injunctions, we're sick of the wait, While scabs wreck equipment we see through the gate. Our trust in the law's wearing weary and thin, It's time to do justice and let us back in.

If scabs and employers are enemies so are their political allies and co-conspirators the Liberal Government. The wharfies forced the founder of the Liberal Party of Australia to wear the tag "Pig Iron Bob" for most of his political life and the present generation of Liberals seem destined to carry on Bob Menzies' feud against the waterside workers with a suicidal recklessness. The wharfies appear to be endowed with abilities both to send the Liberals into a rage and frustrate all the best laid plans of this sworn enemy. Maybe that's the nub of the wharfies' place in Australian history, the special place they occupy in union culture. Certainly their union is far older than the Liberal party and may well outlive it. I found this song on the Melbourne web support site I mentioned above.

Liberals Are Bastards Tune: We Shall Not Be Moved Howard is a liar - he should be removed! Howard is a liar - he should be removed! Just like a scum across the Ya-ar-ra, He should be removed! Fischer is a dropkick - he should be removed! Fischer is a dropkick - he should be removed! Just like a scum across the Ya-ar-ra, He should be removed! Costello is a mad dog - he should be removed! Costello is a mad dog - he should be removed! Just like a scum across the Ya-ar-ra, He should be removed! Downer is a blockhead - he should be removed! Downer is a blockhead - he should be removed! Just like a scum across the Ya-ar-ra, He should be removed! Reith is a bastard - he should be removed! Reith is a bastard - he should be removed! Just like a scum across the Ya-ar-ra, He should be removed! Vanstone is a ratbag - she should be removed! Vanstone is a ratbag - she should be removed! Just like a scum across the Ya-ar-ra, She should be removed! Herron is a racist - he should be removed! Herron is a racist - he should be removed! Just like a scum across the Ya-ar-ra, He should be removed! Liberals are bastards - they should be removed! Liberals are bastards - they should be removed! Just like a scum across the Ya-ar-ra, They should be removed! Just like a scum across the Ya-ar-ra, THEY WILL BE REMOVED!

The Yarra is the river that runs through Melbourne.

What a service that little tune has done over the years! and in different countries. I was singing "We're gonna ban the H-Bomb , we shall not be moved" in England in the late 1950's. See also Wendy Lowenstein's suggestions regarding this song

Patrick has docks around Australia including Brisbane where these 3 poems seem to originate if the email address is anything to go by. I discovered the poems at the "Support Australia's Wharfies" web message board in Melbourne at: http://www.insidetheweb.com/messageboard/mbs.cgi/mb63212

Poems by John Tomlinson ©1998 What sort of Practice? World best practice so they say. Wharfies working without pay. While wharfies picket one more day Patricks seeks another stay. World best practice so they say taking all the jobs away. World best practice it is new coming to a job near you. World best practice made for you coming soon to your job too. Picket Line Oh we're relaxed and comfortable Yes we're doing fine we are relaxed and comfortable out on the picket line. I know you said you'd govern you'd govern for all of us we'd be relaxed and comfortable and there'd be no fuss. Well we are relaxed and comfortable and so say all of us: yes, we're relaxed and comfortable we're feeling mighty fine we are relaxed and comfortable out on the picket line. The rain might fall the wind might blow, hard times come and hard times go, there might be hail there might be snow, but we're relaxed and comfortable out on the picket line. Cause in our hearts we're smiling and we know we'll see sunshine. Yes we will see sunshine at the ending this struggle when we lay our banners down we'll be relaxed and comfortable there'll be no need to frown. Because we stand together and together we will win. We won't scab or lie or cheat so in the end you face defeat. Together we will win. We don't need guard dogs nor come in the dead of night we struggle for each other and we try to do what's right. Oh we don't need to lie and cheat we don't need to steal. We try to tell it like it is we try to make it real, and in our trust of others we have forged a force of steel. You might look in wonderment you might smile and sneer but the picket line is stronger now the end is coming near. We don't lie to judges we won't lie to you we don't lie to each other we will build a world anew. We are relaxed and comfortable I say we're doing fine we are relaxed and comfortable out here on the picket line. Standing shoulder to shoulder supporting one another: brothers, sisters, children, wives, fathers, daughter, mother. Yes, we are relaxed and comfortable out here we're doing fine yes, we are relaxed and comfortable out on the picket line. Oh you can stick best practice, and you stick your hate. We're never voting for yer once we're back inside the gate. The artisan is partisan Reith's seldom right he's not too bright. In fact he's f---ing stupid, fallen in love with Corrigan John Howard's playing cupid. Blood on the street. Blood on the stair. Blood in your eyes and blood in your hair - industrial resolution. World best practice in asset stripping. Bottom of the harbour skinny dipping. I know indeed just what we need- a worker's revolution.

John Tomlinson's poems give this union struggle, in many ways a very old struggle, a modern beat or rap. They remind me of Rock Against Racism perfomances by John Cooper Clark or maybe the "Making History" recording of Linton Kwesi Johnson.

"World's Best Practice" is a favourite mantra of those who accuse the wharfies of indolence on the job, while "relaxed and comfortable" is what John Howard said he hoped Australians would feel if he was elected. "Bottom of the Harbour" was a corporate strategy of companies to illegally divest themselves of responsibilities and tax burdens by setting up special shells that were artificially sent bankrupt while the parent companies lived on in style. These schemes were revealed in the 1980 by the Costigan Commission, and the judge in that investigation, Frank Costigan, recently likened the tactics of the owners of Patrick to those "Bottom of the Harbour" schemes. John Howard was treasurer at the time of the original schemes yet seems to have forgotten the stench they left on him and his fellow Liberals.

John Coombs the wharfies leader proposed a new definition of World's Best Practice at the May Day rally, one that includes social responsibility such as decent health, safety and education systems, security of employment and ending child labour. He also points to another kind of Globalisation, one of workers internationalism against the onslaught of multinational corporations.

As I write these words the union has won back the right to the jobs on the wharves in the High Court. They day before this historic decision saw the biggest May Day celebration for many years, where many of these songs were sung along with the traditional repertory of union songs. Every capital city in Australia has a Trade Union or Solidarity Choir along with assorted folk singers to sing this kind of material, and we have seen a great outpouring of new and refurbished songs to meet the needs of another campaign in union history.

John Warner in Sydney seems to been smitten the hardest by the MUA Muse and emailed me two more songs as I was putting this material together. Describing the first song he writes:

"A night of incredible weather in which the defeat of Patrick Stevedores and the Howard Government seemed to become more and more inevitable. Images stay with me of brilliant colours against darkness: orange and yellow safety suits and the little red glows of cigarettes, identifying working men without faces in a dark, temporary shelter; the immense cranes and veils of rain drifting through the spotlights. Like these symbols, solidarity and a family-like friendship blaze through the oppression."

Penrhyn Road Picket by John Warner ©1998 (5.5.98 revised 9.5.98) The bitter wind hurls veils of rain Through the spotlight over the scarlet crane, A police car spins out a wall of spray By the picket tents at Botany Bay, Canvas roofs and plastic walls Crackle and heave in the icy squalls, Red and yellow rain suits shine On that determined picket line. MUA (echo) Here to stay (echo) At Webb Dock, Swanson Dock, And windy Botany Bay, And watch out you fools and liars who say we've had our day, MUA Here to stay! We've faced the cold of the faceless thugs With their batons, mace and savage dogs, We've faced the boss's heart of ice With his squalls of hate and his hail of lies. For the Union's brought us tents and poles, The miners brought us a hill of coal, Carpenter's set up roof and wall, And friends came in and they fed us all. We're tugboat men on a twelve-hour shift, Measuring current, set and drift, We're operators on the scarlet cranes Container loading on trucks and trains. They've cut our numbers relentlessly Now one man slaves at the work of three, The work of three, it would make you laugh, When they want to pay us the wage of half, And danger hangs on our burnt-out brains, As containers swing from the windblown cranes, As the vessel shifts with the wind and tide, A moment's lapse and a man has died. We've faced the worst of the weather's blast, We've the guts, the strength, and the friends to last. We've comrades cooking us snags and tea, We've anger, discipline and unity. We know today and we know with pride, Our solidarity's world wide, And those who think to bar the door, We've beaten better foes before. How Much More A song by John Warner ©1998 Tune: Bless Them All How much more? How much more Evasions, injunctions and law? The courts have decided and that should be it So send home your scabs and security shit. Containers are stacked by the shore The wharfies stand here by the door, To hell with your games and your blacklist of names It's time to get working once more. How much more? How much more? Will you call on us to endure? You've found out that you had the devil to pay When you took on the lads of the bold MUA You're corrupt and depraved to the core And your antics too vile to ignore So get down off your dais Employ us and pay us Then piss off and plague us no more!

The poet from Brisbane teamed up with a friend and emailed me another poem:

The Worlds Best Judge John Tomlinson & Penny Harrington There's a mighty judge from Queensland he stands so straight and tall. He's judging for the Liberals. He'll judge us one and all. He's judging for the farmers. He'll judge for Peter Reith. His judgements mightn't make much sense, but for fascists they are sweet. He is the finest judge we've had since judging was begun. It's a pity that the judgement went: Six - one, six - one. He sold out the workers. He's a bastard through and through. By selling out the workers he's betraying me and you. He's been scabbing on the workers since his vengeful life begun. It's a pity that the judgement went: Six - one, six - one. When he's with his fellow judges he's not having that much fun, and I heard the High Court judgement went six - one , six - one. He is on his lonesome, he's got no friends down there; but he'll get an understanding of hatred and despair. He's lost all of his humanity, and forgotten his morality. He's been fine tuning his venality demonstrating his hostility by selling out the workers. He's been siding with the shirkers. He's been having so much fun but, the judgement went six - one. Once the Liberals give the orders he has a right to choose just as long as he makes sure it's the workers, who lose. He's been having so much fun. He thinks he's got us on the run. It's a pity that the judgement went: Six - one, six - one. It's a pity that the judgement went: Six - one.

I also tracked down another couple of songs from Melbourne, a verse of one of which I'd heard in the background of an ABC radio report! These songs written by Tim O'Brien from a group called "The Corrigans from Dubai" are titled "We Belong to the Union (You can't break me)" and "With These Arms".

You Can't Break Me A song by Tim O'Brien ©1998 You can bruise my pride Bust my face Scatter my rights All over the place You can take the bread From of my plate But you can't break me! Lock us out Chain the gates Put black shirts in With dogs and mace We'll hold the line Won't step away 'Cause you can't break me! Chorus: I belong You belong We belong to the Union Don't count me out When I'm on the floor We'll win again We've won before The streets will ring With a mighty roar 'Cause you can't break me! Stocks rise up On workers' backs Profits soar While you hand out the sack And boardroom bullies Bloated and fat But you can't break me! Seen Australia sold To mates offshore Backroom deals And shonky law The day has come Say "No more!" 'Cause you can't break me! Chorus: I belong You belong We belong to the Union I belong You belong We belong to the Union We won't turn away If you dare us to fight I swear I'll never lay down and die I'm in the union mate Got a right to belong We'll be back Millions strong Women and men United as one 'Cause you can't break me! Chorus: I belong You belong We belong to the Union I belong You belong We belong to the Union I belong You belong We belong to the Union

With These Arms A song by Tim O'Brien ©1998 (Justice is a frail and precious right easily betrayed by those entrusted to its care) The deal was done behind a coward's door they came in darkness, shadows on the shore the snarl of dogs sent shivvers through the night as union men were thrown outside the wire They locked the gates hanging them in chains they gloated seeing working men in pain We watched and saw a veil of darkness fall with working men and women we heard the call And with these arms we held the line with these arms our strength combined and with these arms made our demand and with these arms we made a stand And with these arms - arms that held a baby held the line They'd break the union with one deadly blow If you're MUA - they said - you'd have to go fifteen hundred men cast aside their crime - being union - had them fired Hundreds grew to thousands through those nights faces glowed defiant for workers' rights Police moved in, building workers moved behind and mothers, sisters, brothers held the line And with these arms we held the line with these arms our strength combined with these arms we turned them back and with these arms took up the tracks And with these arms - arms more used to papers held the line

These two songs are on a fund raising MUA CD available from the ACTU which also includes a dance called "We Belong to the Union (Corrigan Quick-step Dance Mix)", the choreography of the dance taking the following form:

"For this track couples break up into four couples with a drongo or - for this dance - a corrigan in the middle. As the couples dance about, the corrigan attempts to strip assets off the dancers (in a bereft and morally corrupt manner) until no-one has any assets left."

I'd found songs and poems from the East coast capitals and began to wonder if there were examples from the West. I emailed folk and union contacts but found nothing, then I stumbled on a Fremantle web site, at http://www.users.bigpond.com/picket/ At this site, The Fremantle Community Picket (Tom Edwards Stand), I found the three poems penned by Geoff Teague a waterside worker, and one by Peter Capp.

The Fremantle Struggle A poem by Peter Capp ©1998 Rudderham Drive in 98 saw a staunch united band Gathered at the Workers Embassy, renamed "Tom Edwards Stand" Determined to see justice done, despite Government Union bashing Plus a corporate Corrigan capitalist into human value smashing But the forces of right stood totally united, as days rolled into weeks The mood went down the valleys then rose up to the peaks Richard Court sent T.R.G and policemen by the hundred And overhead with spotlights burning , two helicopters thundered But unions and community stood shoulder-to-shoulder , all determined to stay They refused to bow to intimidation, as night changed into day Paddy Crumlin would speak to the crowd, supported well by Tony Cooke Real speaking from real people - Not Government Gobblygook The polls were telling Howard's Government what every person knew That decent honest people didn't share their slanted view So this embassy will remain and people will fight as one Till this Government and Corrigan crumble - AND JUSTICE IS FINALLY DONE Note Tom Edwards was killed in 1919 on the Fremantle waterfront fighting for his right to be a unionist. The State of the Union A poem by Geoff Teague ©1998 It was a great day in '86, when I joined the waterfront Not of a union background, but I thought I'd take a punt I joined the Maritime Union, without my arm bent back Their record did impress me, I followed the union track About "closed shop " hypocrisy, let's just take a little look No entry to the WACA, unless a member with a book Or try and be a Liberal, when you haven't joined their club The Chamber of Commerce is just as bad, but I'm welcome at the pub Unions aren't just for workers, the lawyers are in one too Accountants, farmers and doctors, are but some to name a few And what about the pollies, their union is quite strong Now here we'll find a closed shop, without a union song The corrupt and greedy bosses, unfortunately still survive We see the ugly side of them, when they finally take a dive The only moral parties left, in this raped and pillaged land Are the unions of Australia, taking the only responsible stand Reform is required in Parliament, it's urgency is overdue Productivity in this establishment, out of ten would rate a two If ministers and bosses were honest and workers were not torn apart The union movement of the world, may never had to start A worker without a union, has no voice to have a say Forget about safety and conditions, or go home with no pay But it all comes down to just one thing, our choice must always prevail Whether you join a union or not, our rights must never fail The uneducated people of society, and there is a lot out there Believe the unions are the thugs, and the pollies really care For those of you who are still asleep, time to get some fact Unions are fighting tooth and nail, to keep your rights intact. Wake up Australia A poem by Geoff Teague ©1998 We work all our lives and don't ask much, but still they screw us for more, Yes we of the workforce who scrape all our lives, are headed for the life of the poor. Where are we going? Who's in control? Has quality of life had it's day? Yes capitalism, like cancer has spread, as the politicians collect their pay Chorus: Wake up Australians as the world goes past Our brains have been washed right through We stay at home and watch it all on TV We don't fight back, just brew With the rorts a happening in Canberra and while the nation sleeps at night, Our pollies have boosted their paypackets, yet our economy is suppose to be tight. The writing seems to be on the wall, as the pollies get fat and rich They've taken away the jobs we had and just left us to argue and bitch And what of our kids? They don't have a say. Where does their future lie? In the kitchen of a hamburger stand or eating the humble pie It won't be long -they'll force us out, to places far from our homes, Our cities are filling with the overseas rich and we are the garden gnomes In April we remember our fallen and brave - for our freedom and peace they fought They faced some terrible enemies, but not like Howard or Court. This enemy has different intent, these Fascists want to change our life Offering nothing for our children, unemployment in Australia is rife. The greedy capitalists are here for good as the world gets smaller each day, Our labour force reduces it's hold, work longer for no extra pay. The casual worker waits "on call" - his job just fills a hole A permanent job is what he wants - but it just beats getting the dole Our politicians have failed us bad, but why do they fuss so loud When at election time they all combine, that they'll lead this country so proud. The constitution they have rorted, so let's stop and give it a look If this is government of quality, then things are bloody crook. Workplace Agreements A poem by Geoff Teague ©1998 Take individual workplace agreements, and look at the bottom line It is nine to one against you, join the dole queue or sign Cheap labour is the name of the game and we Aussies have the ball in our court We'll cop five dollars an hour or to overseas labour they'll resort As for the dole it is a form of bribe, the government have contrived a way Get rid of the higher paid jobs and feed them a little pay Let's make them work for their dole, to supply the labour cheap There'll be no gold at the end of their rainbow, but our businesses will be able to reap Unions have kept the community together, though the ignorant will grumble and sneer But the discipline in the community, has started to disappear More families broken and crime growing, the third world border is closing And yet our government couldn't care less, our child's future is decomposing Why does this government bash the unions? To get answers there has been failure It is the unions that stand between real jobs and the casualisation of Australia One real issue is what we all should know and this could make you laugh These rogues that fester in parliament, want our conditions cut less than half Collective agreements are the way to go, in industry they have proved their place Though they are not one hundred percent yet, bosses and workers have given them grace For goodness sake wake to the call, our industries rely on the drones While the bosses think running a business, is plenty of lunches and mobile phones Industry must answer to workplace reform, but nobody has pointed the finger While quality of the standards waive, the bosses bludge and linger Yes indeed we are the clever country - we have given most of it away Time for all workers to be counted, collective bargaining will win the day.

The tradition of union songs is as old as unions themselves now approaching their third century. It borrows from the popular traditions of the broadside ballad and the folk song and the hymn. There is the sense of the expression of views and mores of a vibrant community, a culture. The means of collection and dissemination quite naturally include the latest technologies, the Internet and the World Wide Web. In my experience this introduces a new speed both in the collection of material from disparate sources and in getting the material out to an international audience.

Such songs are a hardy breed and resurface from their underground streams or untapped seams when most urgently required. Typeset on a page they may not look much but a song exists for the singing and the printed version is never much of a guide to its qualities.

I leave the last word to John Warner with a song inspired by the May Day march in Sydney while he was on his way to perform for a wharfies fund raising concert

Tribute to John Howard A song by John Warner ©1998 (May Day March 3/5/98) Dear Johnnie Howard, we thought we ought to say, How much we appreciate the things you've done today. You've really done us well, old lad, You've treated us alright, You only had to flap your gob to make us all unite. Ten thousand folks were on the street, You should have heard the cheers, More union solidarity than there has been for years, Take on another union, lad before it disappears, Johnny Howard, the working man's delight. Dear Johnnie Howard, receive our vote of thanks, Likewise Mr. Corrigan, his businesses and banks, If you'd not schemed and plotted, To bully, cheat and rob, If you'd not sent the wharfies out, Without their rightful job, We might not have united in the way we did today, To celebrate our victories, this merry month of May, So call the next election and we working folk will say, Goodbye Howard and your thieving liberal mob.

Visit "Union Songs" on the Web at: http://unionsong.com/ and .... send me some more union songs! Preferably by email (then I dont need to retype them)

By Way of Glossary MUA Maritime Union of Australia An amalgamation of wharfies from the old WWF (Waterside Workers Federation) and seamen from the old SUA (Seamen's Union of Australia) Patrick Second largest of Australia's stevedoring duopoly NFF National Farmers Federation representing agribusiness Corrigan Former merchant banker now CEO of Patrick John Howard Australian Prime Minister Peter Reith Minister for "union-busting" WACA Western Australian Cricket Association (sports ground) Court Richard Court: Premier of Western Australia

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union songs..........a selection by mark gregory