u repeated a song that i posted on ur profile lmfao

When hungry millions are unfed
And the little orphans weep
I cannot eat in peace my bread,
Nor sing my grief to sleep.
When thoughts arising from the heart
Are hampered in their flight,
I cannot sit and muse apart
Upon a dreamy height.

When craven lies oft seek to blind
The eyes of blazing Truth,
I cannot turn my maddened mind
To songs of love and youth,
Nor can I sing in lyric strains
Of private, little woes,
When Greed is reaping golden gains
From bloody seeds it sows.

it's another PNW IWW song

that is way too similar to portland county jail

Fifty thousand lumberjacks, fifty thousand packs
Fifty thousand dirty rolls of blankets on their backs
Fifty thousand minds made up to strike and strike like men
For fifty years they've packed a bed, but never will again

"Such a lot of devils" — that's what the papers say
"They've gone on strike for shorter hours and a raise in pay:
They left the camps, the lazy tramps, they all walked out as one;
They say they'll win the strike or put the bosses on the bum."

Fifty thousand wooden bunks full of things that crawl;
Fifty thousand restless men have left them once for all
One by one they dared not say "The hours are much too long."
But they could shout it now because they're fifty thousand strong

think oive got room for a little bit more mate.

babbys yed? oh aye?

wots a babbys yed?

steak puddin.

steak puddin?

steak puddin. well-renowned aroun ‘ere. our puddins are the best

an why es et called a babbys yed?

they favour em. they’re very similah to look at

so wen you crack opan a baby’s ‘ead ‘ats wot it looks like inside?

yeah. but don- don do it.