Joe spoke no english but he had a dream
And he saved up most of his pay
To bring his wife and six kids from Lebanon
And settle down here to stay
You could feel the prison of his loneliness
He wouldn't see them for years
He kept brandy behind the compressed air tanks
And he gulped it when the coast was clear
Nick the Greek collected tropical fish
Had to be a character too
Smuggled in Pirhana just to break the law
And he fed them on kangaroo
Bob's pride was his handlebar moustache
Said he still combed out sand
Pushed a tank through the Sahara desert
So they made him the leading hand
And the summer night shifts were long and cool
Charlie chain smoked cigars
David sweated in his speckled paint mask
As he gazed out at the stars
Crazy Charlie was a Yugoslav
His old straight eight Chevy could move
His ambition was to live on a hippie commune
When Dave told him about free love
Fred had been a farmer and a heavyweight champ
Hands like a stump jump plough
Moved the earth with a thrust of his arms
He was loading on the paint line now
And the boys made a noise every Friday night
At the bar of the Hilton Hotel
Downing pints and chewing the fat
Till the ten o'clock closing bell
It was only rumour til the foreman came
And hiding his shame with a cough
He said they're cutting back down to one shift now
They're gonna have to lay you off
Joe held his gaze and gulped a brandy
And spat it out at his feet
Bob stood bolt still looking thunderstruck
Nick swore for an hour in Greek
Their anger was spent in a rush of fire
And smouldered out of mind
When they shook hands on that last grey day
Each was in his way resigned
Then a few days later I saw old Joe
Looking like he'd aged ten years
Drunk on the tiles at the Stag Hotel
And he couldn't hold back the tears
Fred had talked of his grueling heavyweight bouts
I remembered what he'd said
There's no giving up on that killing floor
If you don't fight you're dead
If you work with your hands for your livelihood
Some day you might have to choose
When the class war rages on the factory floor
If you don't fight you lose
If you don't fight you lose
If you don't fight you lose
If you don't fight you lose
If you don't fight you lose
If you don't fight you lose
If you don't fight
If you don't fight you lose
If you don't fight you lose
Killing Floor Video (MV)
Redgum - Killing Floor Lyrics
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If you would like to submit them, please use the form below.
Joe spoke no english but he had a dream
And he saved up most of his pay
To bring his wife and six kids from Lebanon
And settle down here to stay
You could feel the prison of his loneliness
He wouldn't see them for years
He kept brandy behind the compressed air tanks
And he gulped it when the coast was clear
Nick the Greek collected tropical fish
Had to be a character too
Smuggled in Pirhana just to break the law
And he fed them on kangaroo
Bob's pride was his handlebar moustache
Said he still combed out sand
Pushed a tank through the Sahara desert
So they made him the leading hand
And the summer night shifts were long and cool
Charlie chain smoked cigars
David sweated in his speckled paint mask
As he gazed out at the stars
Crazy Charlie was a Yugoslav
His old straight eight Chevy could move
His ambition was to live on a hippie commune
When Dave told him about free love
Fred had been a farmer and a heavyweight champ
Hands like a stump jump plough
Moved the earth with a thrust of his arms
He was loading on the paint line now
And the boys made a noise every Friday night
At the bar of the Hilton Hotel
Downing pints and chewing the fat
Till the ten o'clock closing bell
It was only rumour til the foreman came
And hiding his shame with a cough
He said they're cutting back down to one shift now
They're gonna have to lay you off
Joe held his gaze and gulped a brandy
And spat it out at his feet
Bob stood bolt still looking thunderstruck
Nick swore for an hour in Greek
Their anger was spent in a rush of fire
And smouldered out of mind
When they shook hands on that last grey day
Each was in his way resigned
Then a few days later I saw old Joe
Looking like he'd aged ten years
Drunk on the tiles at the Stag Hotel
And he couldn't hold back the tears
Fred had talked of his grueling heavyweight bouts
I remembered what he'd said
There's no giving up on that killing floor
If you don't fight you're dead
If you work with your hands for your livelihood
Some day you might have to choose
When the class war rages on the factory floor
If you don't fight you lose
If you don't fight you lose
If you don't fight you lose
If you don't fight you lose
If you don't fight you lose
If you don't fight you lose
If you don't fight
If you don't fight you lose
If you don't fight you lose
And he saved up most of his pay
To bring his wife and six kids from Lebanon
And settle down here to stay
You could feel the prison of his loneliness
He wouldn't see them for years
He kept brandy behind the compressed air tanks
And he gulped it when the coast was clear
Nick the Greek collected tropical fish
Had to be a character too
Smuggled in Pirhana just to break the law
And he fed them on kangaroo
Bob's pride was his handlebar moustache
Said he still combed out sand
Pushed a tank through the Sahara desert
So they made him the leading hand
And the summer night shifts were long and cool
Charlie chain smoked cigars
David sweated in his speckled paint mask
As he gazed out at the stars
Crazy Charlie was a Yugoslav
His old straight eight Chevy could move
His ambition was to live on a hippie commune
When Dave told him about free love
Fred had been a farmer and a heavyweight champ
Hands like a stump jump plough
Moved the earth with a thrust of his arms
He was loading on the paint line now
And the boys made a noise every Friday night
At the bar of the Hilton Hotel
Downing pints and chewing the fat
Till the ten o'clock closing bell
It was only rumour til the foreman came
And hiding his shame with a cough
He said they're cutting back down to one shift now
They're gonna have to lay you off
Joe held his gaze and gulped a brandy
And spat it out at his feet
Bob stood bolt still looking thunderstruck
Nick swore for an hour in Greek
Their anger was spent in a rush of fire
And smouldered out of mind
When they shook hands on that last grey day
Each was in his way resigned
Then a few days later I saw old Joe
Looking like he'd aged ten years
Drunk on the tiles at the Stag Hotel
And he couldn't hold back the tears
Fred had talked of his grueling heavyweight bouts
I remembered what he'd said
There's no giving up on that killing floor
If you don't fight you're dead
If you work with your hands for your livelihood
Some day you might have to choose
When the class war rages on the factory floor
If you don't fight you lose
If you don't fight you lose
If you don't fight you lose
If you don't fight you lose
If you don't fight you lose
If you don't fight you lose
If you don't fight
If you don't fight you lose
If you don't fight you lose
Writer: MICHAEL ATKINSON
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group