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Come and listen to my story, come and listen to my song |
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I will tell you of a hero, who's now dead and gone |
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I will tell you of a young boy, whose age was nineteen |
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He was the bravest union man, that I have ever seen |
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Harry Simms was a palomine, we labored side by side |
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Expecting to be shot on sight, or taken for a ride |
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By them dirty cold operator gun thugs, that roamed from town to town |
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A-shooting down the union men, where e'er they may be found |
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Harry Simms was walkin' down the track, one bright sun-shiney day |
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He was a youth of courage, his step was light and gay |
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He did not know the gun thugs was hiding on the way |
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To kill our brave young comrade this bright sun-shiney day |
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Harry Simms was killed on Brush Creek, in nineteen thirty-two |
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He organized the miners, into the N.M.U. |
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He gave his life in struggle, that was all that he could do |
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He died for the union, also for me and you |
