to the tune of The Old Orange Flute
Now when I was a young man, I worked in Milwaukee
A pharmaceutical salesman, a pill-hocking jockey
Each caller and desk, every salesman and car
were ruled by our President, Fred Ernst Yahr
Now Yahr had a profitable policy
A way to cut short paying seniority
There’s plenty to do, you could always get hired
But the minute you’re up for a raise you’d be fired
Well, we all talked it over, a few months or so
We decided the bum at the top had to go
The day it was chosen, the plans were all spun
and we all came in early, to have some good fun
What a scene hit the boss when he opened the door
Badminton and bridge had the rule of the floor
And we all carried on like we would at the bars
taking bets on the matches and smoking cigars
Then we took up the chorus, each woman and man
“We’re staying on strike until Yahr gets the can”
And the traveling salesmen all radioed in
Said “we’ll all of us sit in our cars ‘til we win”
Not a phone call was answered, not an order was filled
Not a dollar or dime clattered into the till
and the shift girls said, with a grin ear to ear
“you can call in the scabs, boss, but we’re staying here”
Now Yahre stood in shock and he started to sputter
and carrying on with a mouth like a gutter
now you get back to work, you damned treacherous reds!
but we cranked up the box to the jazz band instead
Oh the party kicked up and we had quite the rumpus
A hoi polloi shindig, and Yahre couldn’t dump us
‘til a runner showed up, said “I’ve come from the Board”
and they want Mr. Yahre to come in for a word
The Board called in Yahre and they spoke very stern
“If the workers won’t shift, not a cent can be earned
these hemorrhaging funds, the investors won’t stand
I’m sorry old Yahre but we’ll meet their demand”
So come all you people who’ve been hearing my ditty
if your boss is a twit and your workplace is awful
just think on this story of profit and loss
and remember the day that we fired the boss
Take a hike! Take a hike!
Oh, long live the union and wildcat strikes!