The Banks are Made of Marble
A Song by Les Rice©Stormking Music 1950
I've traveled round this country
From shore to shining shore
It really made me wonder
The things I heard and saw.
I saw the weary farmer
Plowing sod and loam
l heard the auction hammer
A knocking down his home
But the banks are made of marble
With a guard at every door
And the vaults are stuffed with silver
That the farmer sweated for
l saw the seaman standing
Idly by the shore
l heard the bosses saying
Got no work for you no more
But the banks are made of marble
With a guard at every door
And the vaults are stuffed with silver
That the seaman sweated for
I saw the weary miner
Scrubbing coal dust from his back
I heard his children cryin
Got no coal to heat the shack
But the banks are made of marble
With a guard at every door
And the vaults are stuffed with silver
That the miner sweated for
I've seen my brothers working
Throughout this mighty land
l prayed we'd get together
And together make a stand
Final Chorus
Then we'd own those banks of marble
With a guard at every door
And we'd share those vaults of silver
That we have sweated for
Yeah, I know, it's a Bolshevik song. But somehow it resonates.
3 comments:
Fantastic
I just finished reading "Strumpet City" and I must say it resonates with me, too, especially with that book as recent brain fodder. My guess is that there has to be at least some resonant truth in an idea for it to really take hold in a revolutionary way.
My social science professor, Rudolph Rex Reeder, used to sing this song every year at the Grove City College faculty follies. He would also run full speed into walls in his class to demonstrate how brainwashed the people were under communism.
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