Excerpt from The Everett Massacre: A History of the Class Struggle in the Lumber Industry
Out of the dark they came; out of the night Of poverty and injury and woe, With flaming hope, their vision thrilled to light, Song on their lips, and every heart aglow; They came, that none should trample Labor's right To speak, and voice her centuries of pain.
Bare hands against the master's armored might! A dream to match the tools of sordid gain!
And then the decks went red; and the gcey sea Was written crimsonly with ebbing life. The barricade spewed shots and mockery And curses, and the drunken lust of strife.
Yet, the mad chorus from that devil's host, Yea, all the tumult of that butcher throng, Compound of bullets, booze and coward boast, Could not out-shriek one dying worker's song!
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