“‘Gunmen in West Virginia” by an anonymous Paint Creek Miner written during the terrible strike of 1911-1912. This is one of my favorites in the “Social Protest Lit.” series. This piece is an excerpt is from Book V called “Revolt.” This chapter pertains to “The struggle to abolish injustice; the battle cries of the new army which is gathering for the deliverance of humanity.”
The hills are very bare and cold and lonely;
I wonder what the future months will bring.
The strike is on-our strength would win, if only–
O, Buddy, how I’m longing for the spring!
They’ve got us down-their martial line enfolds us;
They’ve thrown us out to feel the winter’s sting.
And yet, by God, those curs can never hold us,
Nor could the dogs of hell do such a thing!
It isn’t just to see the hills beside me
Grow fresh and green with every growing thing’
I only want the leaves to come and hide me,
To cover up my vengeful wandering.
I will not watch the floating clouds that hover
Above the birds that warble on the wing;
I want to use this GUN from under cover–
O, Buddy, how I’m longing for the spring!
You see them there, below, the damned scab-herders!
Those puppets on the greedy Owners’ String;
We’ll make them pay for all their dirty murders–
We’ll show them how a starveling’s hate can sting!
They riddled us with volley after volley;
We heard their speeding bullets zip and ring,
But soon we’ll make them suffer for their folly–
O, Buddy, how I’m longing for the spring!
//
