The Night that Goldman Spoke at Union Square

I have just returned from Lawrence, Massachusetts where, eight weeks ago, the workers there went on strike. They are starving, their children are dying, but they are holding firm—and we must support them!

It was winter in New York

As the snow began to fall

And the workmen's hall had not a seat to spare

When a young man ducked inside

Just to warm himself, was all

The night that Goldman spoke at Union Square

What is happening in Lawrence is happening everywhere. Let us at last make this the land of opportunity for all people, not just the owners. The land of opportunity for Tateh and his Little Girl. We cannot rest!

She was speaking loud and fast

Through a haze of noise and heat

And the smell of sweat and anger in the air

The police were standing by

But the crowd was on its feet

The night that Goldman spoke at Union Square

You!

He thought he heard her say

What brings you here today?

Poor young rich boy

Masturbates for a vaudeville tart

What a waste of a fiery heart

Dear

He thought she said

Poor young bourgeois

There are things that you've never thought

Come to Emma and you'll be taught

Here

His head was spinning

People feathered and tarred, my friend

Unions broken and why for?

Children laboring, women still enslaved

Leave your little backyard, my friend

There are causes to die for

Strike!

In the gutters of the city

I have tried to find some meaning

Strike!

In the arms of fallen women

In the thought of suicide

Strike!

Like a firework unexploded

Wanting life but never knowing how—

My brother

Life has meaning

I'll show you how—

—Till now

My brother, you are

With us now

He was calling out her name

Shouting what, he did not know

And he found that he was standing on a chair

With a heart as clean and new

As the freshly fallen snow

The night that Goldman spoke—

I've been waiting for you. 

—At Union Square

Strike! Strike! Strike! Strike!

I hate you, goddamned America!

Tateh! Tateh! Tateh! Tateh! Tateh! Tateh!