Ludlow Massacre

Album: Hard Travelin': Asch Recordings Volume 3 (1949)
  • It was early springtime when the strike was on,
    They drove us miners out of doors,
    Out from the houses that the Company owned,
    We moved into tents up at old Ludlow.

    I was worried bad about my children,
    Soldiers guarding the railroad bridge,
    Every once in a while a bullet would fly,
    Kick up gravel under my feet.

    We were so afraid you would kill our children,
    We dug us a cave that was seven foot deep,
    Carried our young ones and pregnant women
    Down inside the cave to sleep.

    That very night your soldiers waited,
    Until all us miners were asleep,
    You snuck around our little tent town,
    Soaked our tents with your kerosene.

    You struck a match and in the blaze that started,
    You pulled the triggers of your gatling guns,
    I made a run for the children but the fire wall stopped me.
    Thirteen children died from your guns.

    I carried my blanket to a wire fence corner,
    Watched the fire till the blaze died down,
    I helped some people drag their belongings,
    While your bullets killed us all around.

    I never will forget the look on the faces
    Of the men and women that awful day,
    When we stood around to preach their funerals,
    And lay the corpses of the dead away.

    We told the Colorado Governor to call the President,
    Tell him to call off his National Guard,
    But the National Guard belonged to the Governor,
    So he didn't try so very hard.

    Our women from Trinidad they hauled some potatoes,
    Up to Walsenburg in a little cart,
    They sold their potatoes and brought some guns back,
    And they put a gun in every hand.

    The state soldiers jumped us in a wire fence corners,
    They did not know we had these guns,
    And the Red-neck Miners mowed down these troopers,
    You should have seen those poor boys run.

    We took some cement and walled that cave up,
    Where you killed these thirteen children inside,
    I said, "God bless the Mine Workers' Union,"
    And then I hung my head and cried. Writer/s: WOODY GUTHRIE
    Lyrics licensed and provided by LyricFind

Comments: 1

  • Mark from Keweenaw Michigan The song, Massacre of 1913, is not about a "horrific accident". Do a little research on the event.
    Listening to my grandmother's account of that night, surviving along with her three younger sisters due to the quick thinking of their mother, may make me a bit biased. This event is listed as the largest mass murder in the state of Michigan.
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