﻿The Sign Of Times 
 
By T-Bone Slim 
Tune: “Stung Right, Stung Right.” 
(Apologies to Joe Hill.) 
 
Always loved the master’s voice, so kind and good and true.  
I joined the union of his choice (he loved my union, too). 
You see there was no difference, no question here of theft. 
For he got all the dividends, and I got what was left. 
 
CHORUS: 
Oh. I was stung right, stung right. 
As if by dark design— 
Stung right, stung right 
All along the line— 
But e’er the war was over— 
I beheld a sign— 
Industrial Workers of the World. 
(It sure looks fine!) t 
Now, I have been a willing slave— I’ve won the boss’ praise, 
But though I labor, and behave. I find it never pays— 
I’ve labored in the world-war times— Oh, I was there with bells 
I saved a jit — but lost my wit— and joined the Four Flush L.’s. 
 
And now I’m hiking round the town to find a job today; 
I cannot find a single sign. “Men Wanted.” by the way. 
At each industry I inquired, if they were buying men. 
But everywhere the boss desired ... I should call again. 
 
Now, working men. it’s up to you — and not a bit too late— 
To organise industrially to keep the bosses straight. 
If you would gain a better lot, with others of your kind. 
Come organize, chip in the pot, and let the masters whine.