A young Shepardflees fascist Italy,
in a boat crossing a tereachorous sea.
His rudimentary education,
ending sheep in Abruzzi, Italy.
His venture, to seek a life of freedom,
on the cold gold ground of La'mere-rr-ika.
He walked out of the pasture near Penna,
into the black pit coal holes of Scranton.
Pick and shovel in hand, clothed in black pitch,
a beacon light upon his tired head.
A young no-good lazy bastard "guinea"
working for a fast talking lying, "mickl".
Day and nighrt, night and day, anday annight.
pick, shovel, load, push, pick, shovel, load, push,
four weeks of darkness, thirty days of night.
Working double shift days in the coal pit,
sucking dust, ingesting coal from the hole,
a nickel a load for pasture clear lungs.
Greenback money in his empty pockets,
mark an "X", on the clear white payroll sheet,
then settle up with the company clerk,
paying his month long debt of servitude.
A slave to the industry of demand,
dictator Baron's that trade in black lung.
Days to months, months to years, a month of years,
living in clapboard company houses,
with bambino's running around his feet.
Just enough left for a couple of beers
and a gallon bottle of cheap vino,
then back to the grind with facist "mick",