The Old Labor Hall
They stand outside the doorway, as the long shadows fall
A line of ghostly figures, at the Old Labor Hall
Mother Jones has just arrived in a pillbox hat and shawl
From the Battle of Blair Mountain to the Old Labor Hall
Big Bill Haywood stoops to enter, he’s nearly six feet tall
Bringing children from Lawrence, to the Old Labor Hall
He nods to Emma Goldman, so fiery, yet so small
She’s arguing with Eugene Debs at the Old Labor Hall
We still tell their stories
We still share their pride
‘Cross a century of struggle
We’re still on their side
They view the ancient photographs that line the worn wood walls
They’re back in 1900, at the Old Labor Hall
An Italian woman cocks her head as if trying to recall
Some old song from Palermo, at the Old Labor Hall
A Scots stonecutter proudly holds his chisel and his maul
His Highland brogue still echoes, through the Old Labor Hall
He sculpts the Barre granite, the finest stone of all
For some rich man’s mausoleum, at the Old Labor Hall
With socialists and anarchists, sometimes it’s quite a brawl
It isn’t always peaceful at the Old Labor Hall
But on the roll of honor, the brightest names of all
Are the immigrants whose strong hands built the Old Labor Hall
And so today we gather, grateful to recall
This gentle man who fought to save the Old Labor Hall
Who with such grace and humor, such feeling for us all
Infused his steadfast passion through the Old Labor Hall
We will tell his story
We will share his pride
Today and in the future
Chet Briggs is on our side
We will tell their stories
We will share their pride
‘Cross a century of struggle
They’re still on our side
We’re still on their side