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This is from the 1909 show "A mentsh zol men zayn," One should be an honorable person. It was sung by Berl or Bernard Bernstein.

I have found that many younger people in my state of North Carolina don't know what a scab is (somebody who works while the union is on strike). They hardly know what a union is. The Republicans destroyed the unions here, we are now what is called a right-to-work state, which really means right-to-fire-you-for-no-reason-at-all and right-to-pay-the-barest-minimum-wages. Republicans busted the unions because union people tended to vote against them. Now there is no job security, jobs don't pay a living wage, and people think unions are the devil. But back when this song was written, unions were brave people putting their lives and livelihoods on the line for each other. The struggle got brutal but we had unions to thank for shorter work days, higher wages, and benefits. Jobs like that hardly exist any more. Oh well.

Let's talk a little about the original singer, Bernard Bernstein. He was born around 1860 in Warsaw. His father traded in geese. It's written that he was a funny, jolly singer and dancer and people called him Berele Hotske. He worked in a cigarette factory and sang on the side. He wanted to be an opera singer, but ended up touring with as a quartet in which everybody's name ended with "stein". At 17 he was in London, a comic, then to Paris and then to Lemberg where he acted with Gimpel. Adler brought him to America, where he became very popular. He was a first-class burlesque comic with many charms and had a fine career, but later in life his kind of comedy went out of style. He died in 1922.

I didn't find any recording so I made my own this morning.


Text and translation after the jump




Workers, use your heads and hear me out, what I'm telling you.
I was a scab! A partner to the devil, to the demon!
When the workers went on strike to improve their lives,
I went straight to Mister Ike and said: I'll work so I can stay alive.
And when I remember I was a scab... may the Devil take me if I do it again!

I don't want to be a scab any more because it's a horrid thing.
It's just ugly, in terror and pain you don't ever get rich from it.
The worker's rushed into deprivation, he's driven into his grave too young.
I'd even rather starve for lack of bread, I swear I won't be a scab again.

I was out in the street once early on a Sunday,
I see a ton of workers, I go listen to them,
I hear there are strikes here and there because wages were cut.
I run straight up and take their place. And I live well.
But when I remember the worker's plight my conscience gnaws at me and I wish for death.

The police guarded me everywhere with their clubs,
But when I'd go home, oy! I got beaten up every night.
As soon as the workers settled the strike, I was the first sacrifice:
"Get out of my shop!" shouted Mr Ike, "I don't need any more scabs or misery!"
And when I remember the terrible blows, I shout out that from now on I won't be a scab again.

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For sheet music and/or performances contact me: jane@mappamundi.com

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