lyrics
THE BEAST (SONG OF THE PUNCH PRESS OPERATOR) Pete Seeger and Bernie Packer
I got a job in a factory
Feeding a beast that don't like me.
It don't give a darn about how I feel
As long as I feed it its ration of steel.
And pity the man who knows the grief
That comes with the bite of that monster's teeth.
Pity the man who knows the grief
That comes with the bite of that monster's teeth.
Watch your mitts at the start of the stroke,
It's a re-peat killer, and will go for broke;
It shoulda been melted 'bout twenty years back,
But it feeds the boss, and he loves that snack.
Oh, Beast, spare my hands,
I'll use them to slay you if I get the chance.
Oh, Beast, spare my hands,
I'll use them to slay you if I get the chance.
There ain't no guards to slow up a man,
Keep your foot on the pedal and your eye on the ram.
If your hand should slip, why, the boss don't shout;
He just buys new fingers as he throws you out.
There's plenty of hands to feed the jaws,
The press don't stop when there ain't no cause.
There's plenty of hands to feed the jaws,
The press don't stop when there ain't no cause.
There ain't one man out on the press,
Who wouldn't quit if jobs weren't scarce;
But a man has to have his daily meal,
And that Beast's gotta have its cold, rolled steel.
Deep inside remain the dreams
That make us the masters of the machines.
While deep inside remain the dreams
That make us the masters of the machines.
Well, now, I got a job in a factory
Feeding a beast that don't like me.
It don't give a darn about how I feel
As long as I feed it its ration of steel.
And pity the man who knows the grief
That comes with the bite of that monster's teeth.
Pity the man who knows the grief
That comes with the bite of that monster's teeth.
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