The Red Clydeside album

[woodfaery]

Hi, I was wondering if you could help me out a wee bit. A friend of mine is organising an evening of lectures/presentations about working class struggle and has asked me to talk about the Red Clydeside movement. Sadly, I don't have the lyrics to the songs on the Red Clydeside album. I'm especially looking for the lyrics to "The Red Clydesiders", "Mrs Barbour's Army" and "The Granite Cage". Any help would be greatly appreciated! And if I do end up using a quote from a song then I'll make sure I credit it appropriately, of course.

Thanks, Tina

[johnhamill]

RS. BARBOUR'S ARMY
(Alistair Hulett)

Chorus:
'Cos I'm frae Govan an' ye're frae Partick
This yin here's fae Bridge o' Weir and thon's fae Kinning Park
There's some that's prods, there's some that's catholic
But we're Mrs. Barbour's Army and we're here tae dae the wark

In the tenements o' Glesga in the year one nine one five
It was one lang bloody struggle tae keep ourselves alive
We were coontin' oot the coppers tae buy wor scraps o' food
When the landlords put the rent up just because they could
A' the factories were hummin', there was overtime galore
But wages they were driven doon tae subsidise the war
Oot came Mrs. Barbour from her wee bit single end
She said, I'll organise the lassies if I cannae rouse the men

Mrs. Barbour made a poster sayin', We'll no' pay higher rent
Then chapped on every door of every Govan tenement
She said, Pit this in the windae an' when you hear me bang the drum
We'll run oot an' chase the factor a' the way tae kingdom come
When the poor wee soul cam roon' he was battered black and blue
By a regiment in pinnies that knew just what tae do
Mrs. Barbour organised the gaitherin' o' the clans
And they burst oot o' the steamie armed wi' pots an' fryin' pans

Mrs. Barbour's Army spread through Glesga like the plague
The maisters got the message and the message wisnae vague
While oor menfolk fight the Kaiser we'll stay hame and fight the war
Against the greedy bastards who keep grindin' doon the poor
If ye want tae stop conscription stand and fight the profiteers
Bring the hale big bloody sandpit crashin' doon aroon' their ears
We'll no' starve, said Mrs. Barbour, While the men we ca' wor ain
Are marchin aff tae hae their hairt's blood washed like watter doon a drain

Well it didnae take the government that lang tae realise
If you crack doon on the leaders then the rest will compromise
They arrested Mrs. Barbour and they clapped her in the jile
Then they made an awfy big mistake, they let her oot on bail
She ca'd the men oot o' the factories on the Clyde and on the Cart
They marched up tae the courthoose sayin', We'll tear the place apart
Mrs. Barbour's Army brought the maisters tae their knees
Wi' a regiment in pinnies backed by one in dungarees


[2002:] The Great Unrest came to a shuddering halt in 1914 with the outbreak of war, as workers were swept up in a wave of patriotic jingoism. Glasgow was to prove a notable exception. Of course workers in other places opposed the war, but the scale of the opposition and its militancy earned Glasgow the epithet Red Clydeside. The high level within the workforce of Irish migrants and Highland refugees, none of whom had much cause to cherish British Imperialism, partly explains this. But by far the most significant factor was the presence of a large number of socialists who could agitate among the workers sufferíng all the attacks on wages and conditions that accompanied wartime production. One of the principle [sic!] grievances was the huge rent increases that were taking place as workers were drafted into Glasgow to work in the munitions factories. The housing shortage that resulted gave the landlords the opportunity to 'profiteer' by rent-racking and evicting all who couldn't pay.

In 1915, the Govan Rent Strike broke out and soon spread to other parts of the city. At its peak, 250,000 families were on strike. Although educated socialists and suffragettes played a significant role, the real heroes were the working class women of Glasgow, led by a Govan housewife called Mary Barbour. In his stirring eyewitness account 'Revolt on the Clyde' Willie Gallacher writes:

"In Govan, Mrs. Barbour, a typical working-class housewife, became the leader of a movement such as had never been seen before, or since for that matter. Street meetings, back-court meetings, drums, bells, trumpets - every method was used to bring the women out and organize them for the struggle. Notices were printed by the thousand and put up in the windows: wherever you went you could see them. In street after street, hardly a window without one: "We Are Not Paying Increased Rent".
These notices represented a spirit amongst the women that could not be overcome. The factors (agents for the property owners) could not collect the rents. They applied to the courts for eviction warrants. Having obtained these, sheriff's officers were sent to serve them and evict the tenants. But Mrs. Barbour had a team of women who were wonderful. They could smell a sheriff's officer a mile away. At their summons women left their cooking, washing or whatever they were doing. Before they got anywhere near their destination, the officer and his men would be met by an army of furious women who drove them back in a hurried scramble for safety."

Gallacher goes on to recount how the landlords began suing through the small debts court for the right to impound wages to cover unpaid rent. This outrage mobilised the menfolk into action alongside their wives. On the day of the trial of several rent strikers, the factories emptied all across Glasgow to join a demonstration organised by the women.

"From early morning the women were marching to the centre of the city where the Sheriff's Court is situated. Mrs. Barbour's army was on the march. But even as they marched, mighty reinforcements were coming from the workshops and the yards. From far away Dalmuir in the West, from Parkhead in the East, from Cathcart in the South and Hydepark in the North, the dungareed army of the proletariat invaded the centre of the city. Into the streets around the Sheriff's Court the workers marched from all sides. All the streets were packed. Traffic was completely stopped. Right in front of the court, John Maclean was on a platform addressing the crowd as far as his voice could reach. In other streets near the court others of us were at it. Roar after roar of rage went up as incidents were related of the robbery of mothers and wives whose sons and husbands were at the front. Roar followed roar as we pictured what would happen if we allowed the attack on our wages.
It was obvious to the sheriff that the situation was too desperate to play with. He telephoned London and was put through to the Minister Of Munitions, Mr. Lloyd George. "The workers have left the factories," he said after explaining the nature of the case. "They are threatening to pull down Glasgow. What am I to do?" "Stop the case," he was told, "a Rent Restriction Act will be introduced immediately."

The Glasgow Herald offered this tribute to the men and women of the Clyde: "Thanks to the fine stand made by Glasgow women and the determined attitude of the Clyde munitions workers, the Government has introduced a Bill to legalize pre-war rent during the war and for six months thereafter."

[woodfaery]

Thanks very much John, that's very helpful! Both the lyrics and the extra information.

Hugs, Tina

[johnhamill]

The Granite Cage

The iron door bags shut
They’ve got ye noo John where they want ye
Ye’ll claw the walls before there through wi’ you, and a’ yer demons come tae haunt ye
Ye’ll curse the day, ye’ll fear the night, ye’ll live on water and stale breid
Till yer fliesh twines an’ yer hostin up yer bleid
In the granite cage at Peterheid.
Haud on John wi’ a’ ye’ve got, there’s freens outside who’ll no forsake ye
Wee pale blue forget-me-not, I fear this time there oot tae break ye.

Huddled in yer bed at night, too cauld tae sleep an’ feart tae dream
Ye paid in full the price that martyrs have tae pay, who dare tae swim against the stream
Regrets and doubts, ye must have had yer share
For every floo’er that grows there’s aye a weed
Ye sacrificed yer life for socialism’s creed, in the granite cage at Peterheid.

Hear the measured steps outside, psychopaths decked oot in navy twill
Haud yer breath until yer sure they’ve passed yer cell
Sadistic bampots oot tae maim and kill
Someone screams thank Christ it wis’nae you
Wan mair poor bastard driven aff his hied
The drugs are kickin in, yer mind is a’ abreid, in the granite cage at Pererheid.

Wee pale blue forget-me-not, favour floo’er o’ wor dear McLean
Ye daur tae blossom whaur cement and cobbled stane
Jine forces tae mak’ sure we stand alane
In every crack another floo’er grows
The day is yet tae come but gie it speed
When a’ the wee floo’ers rise up and spread their seed
Ower the granite cage at Peterheid.

[johnhamill]

The Red Clydesiders.

Jimmy Maxton, James McDougall, Barbour, Gallacher and McShane
Agnes Dollan, Helen Crawford, up at the heid great John Maclean
These are some o' the Red Clyde siders, hundreds more I'd wish tae nane
A monument I'd raise forever, these are the flower of Scotland's fame

MacDougall fell apart in prison, came back oot a broken shell
They did the same tae young John Muir, eight lang months in the jaws of hell
His only crime was saying no tae slaughter in a rich man's war
Property is theft he said, don't die for what ye cannae live for

Rags and Tags for common folk, silk for money lenders
The old church pew, the white and blue
The kilt and the Young Pretender keep us sweirt
But what mak's them feart is wor pride in the Red Clydesiders

Every Sunday night at Bath Street John Maclean roared oot his speil
Thousands gaithered roon' tae hear him, he spak' loud and he spak' weil
Fifteen years I've been a sodger, fightin' for the cause he said
I'll no' stop now though ye might jail me, prison walls I dinnae dread