Scabs
Editorial note
Restored from the PDF text layer and Political Folk Music. The display scan is degraded, but the lyric body is now substantially recovered.
Verse 1
There's an alien life form been creepin' round my job site,
Looks almost human, but something about them ain't right.
They can cross right over a picket line,
Pay no attention to a picket sign. They're called...
Chorus
Scabs. Scabs.
The lowest form of life ever spawned in nature's lab.
They've got no brains; they've got no heart.
Scabs are tearing our communities apart.
Verse 2
Brother Jack London was right, there's nothing lower than a scab.
This animal's got a soul all dark and drab.
A mutt or a mongrel can be man's best friend,
But you can never trust a scab till the bitter end.
Verse 3
Scabs are vicious and they breed by the score.
They're the reason unions have to fight and organize more.
They crawl through the gate when the boss says go,
And they drag down everybody's wages low.
Verse 4
You scabs who cross our picket line, remember you'll get yours in time.
The enemy's the same, yours and mine.
The scab is the boss's darling.
Stop scabs.
Sheet music
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