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The Two Bums
This is a poem from George Milburn's book, The Hobo's Hornbook. You can also find it in a lot of old I. W. W. pamphlets and literature. It sums up a great deal of what I feel. It talks about the bum on the rod and the burn on the plush, which is just a simple way of saying that the kind of system we live in now demands that there be a poor people, demands that there be people out of work so that there will always be people willing to work for any wage.
Sure, a lot of railroad burns are parasites, but, like the poem says, they're just fleas who get an occasional bite, and you look at what those parasites at the top are chewing off. I know that there's a lot of talk these days about the welfare Cadillac; middle class people talking about those welfare gobblers down on the bottom who are afraid to do an honest day's work, and they're all driving big Cadillacs. And you hear over and over again, "Nobody ought to get something for nothing. " I've got to agree. You've got to work to eat.
I look at a factory. I see that everybody associated with that factory puts something in and they take something out. The workers put in their sweat and their skill, and they take out wages. The salesmen put in their skill and ability, and they take out commissions. The managers and foremen and people in the offices put in theirs, and take out salaries. But there's one group of people who take out more than they put in, and that more is called profit. I can't think of any other way to define it. That's a bunch of people who are getting something they didn't work for, and it's a whole lot.
If we're really concerned about people getting just what they earn, if we're really concerned about people not getting something that they didn't put in time and sweat for, let's start with the major offenders, and get rid of them. Then we'll gradually work our way down to the petty chiselers. It just makes sense.
The bum on the rod is hunted down
As the enemy of mankind;
The other is driven around to his club
And feted, wined and dined.
And they who curse the bum on the rods
As the essence of all that is bad
Will greet the other with a winning smile
And extend him the hand so glad.
The bum on the rods is a social flea
Who gets an occasional bite;
The bum on the plush is a social leech,
Blood-sucking day and night.
The bum on the rods is a load so light
That his weight we scarcely feel,
But it takes the labor of dozens of men
To furnish the other a meal.
As long as you sanction the bum on the plush,
The other will always be there,
But rid yourself of the bum on the plush
And the other will disappear.
Then make an intelligent, organized kick,
Get rid of the weights that crush;
Don't worry about the bum on the rods,
Get rid of the bum on the plush!
9 comments:
I grew up on Nile Street. Back is the day, I'd see Utah on many occasion on my walks down to the park...and little league games as a kid. I grew up with Nick and Brendan. Didn't realize how exceptional it was to know this character until I left NC and got into Folks music as I was older.
My thoughts are with you all. Please express my regards to Brendan and Nick especially. I'll continue to wear my "U. Utah Phillips for President" button with pride!
My sincere condolences to all. Utah's music was one of those changing moments for me (going back to the days of KFAT for those who remember the station), and I was privileged to eventually meet him in person once when he updated his IWW dues about 10 years ago. Travel in peace, fellow worker.
Deepest sympathy to Utah's family and all who loved him. May our grandchildren carry his name in their lifes efforts for peace and justice.
Ride the Wind Utah!
It's been thirty years I've listened to Utah singing his songs and telling his yarns. Somehow it seems too short. He's helped make me who I am, and I thank him.
JT
My condolences to Utah's family and friends. I will feature him on my next radio show. What a person! I met Utah a few times in Vermont in the 1970's when I was a free-school kid and he did some benefits for us with Rosalie Sorrels. The school was connected to Philo Records where Utah had his caboose, so there was a sort of extended family feeling. Utah was friendly and real and sang/told great stories. Thank you Utah for walking your talk.
I'm so sorry for your loss. I met him once, but was a little too star struck by him to say much! He was a great inspiration to me. I was just introducing my husband to his music and will continue to do so. A One-of-a-kind individual- the world won't be the same.
peace be with him and his family~
Sunday's paper had half a page on Dick Martin (of Rowan and Martin) and waaaay down in the corner, "Bruce Phillips." Utah, an American treasure that America didn't know it had. I still carry around one of the Aschroft-inspired "Spy" buttons he handed out at the Boston Folk Festival a few years back (next to the UFW one).
"Looking back, along the road I've traveled
All the miles could tell a million tales . . . "
The did, and so did Utah; who knows how many learned about Dorothy Day through him?
Peace to beautiful Nevada City. And Hallelujah for Utah Phillips.
JB (a New England westerner)
I had the pleasure of being introduced to Utah Phillips at Strawberry Music Festival last year. He was the highlight of the Festival for many of us and my claim to fame is the photos of Utah with his arm around my shoulders. He was a larger than life figure that magical weekend and one, for many different reasons will not soon be forgotten. Bless you kind sir.
Jeff,
Newhall CA
The summer I turned 13 years old, I was "drafted" by a family friend to be a volunteer in the Folklife Festival at Expo '74, in Spokane, WA. Utah was such a huge part of that summer! I and several of my friends would hang around whenever he sang or told stories, just soaking up the tradition...OUR tradition..OUR heritage. I learned of his death only yesterday, and I just want to say: Utah, thank you. Thank you so much. Your stories...your songs...they left such a mark on my life. I found my voice that summer. Your songs and stories made me laugh and they made me cry. Most of all, they taught me that one voice, at the right place and the right time, can change the world...or, at the very least, the life of another human being.
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