On April the thirtieth Nineteen thirty-three Upon the streets of Wilder They shot him brave and free They shot my darling father He fell upon the ground 'Twas in the back they shot him His blood came streaming down They took the pistol handles And beat him on the head The hired gunmen beat him 'Til he was cold and dead When he left home that morning I though he'd never return But for my darlin' father My heart shall ever yearn We carried him to the graveyard There we laid him down To sleep in death for many a year In the cold and sodden ground Although he left the union He tried so hard build His blood was spilled for justice And justice guides us still
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