Once again the workers rise with the lark
There's a mass going on in the people's park
Silent and determined they set to embark
On a three day fast and a five mile march
For a man's been shot on the picket line
Sixty years of strength was young for dying
His family is here with eyes of red
His wife steps down with feet of lead
And the sun shines down upon
The old man whose days are done
For a martyr has been taken
He is old Juan de la Cruz
And a century of women pray
At the casket before them laid
And the Virgin of Guadalupe
Watches over de la Cruz
As the heat poured down on the field below
The lead came a-flying from the vineyard row
De la Cruz and his wife never ducked or ran
Union folks since the fight began
People scattered out laying low to the ground
And slowly arose as the dust died down
Birds fluttered soft in his sweet wife's breast
As the bullets sank deep in the old man's chest
The tears fell as Cesar read
The eulogy for the dead
And the Bishop broke the people's bread
Over old Juan de la Cruz
In the pitch of night a deal was made
The deck's oldest card was played
And the devil watched someone get paid
For the death of de la Cruz
Thirty years ago in the same damn spot
The people who ordered the workers shot
Fought as the poor for the same damn right
Of their children to sleep well fed at night
Oh Children of Brotherhood how you've grown
But the seeds of hate were early sown
I see that your souls have long since flown
To the river of greed where angels moan
Midst flowered veils and weathered graves
And flags where the great black eagle waves
Nosotros Venceremos plays
For old Juan de la Cruz
There's work today that must be done
Pray for the man who held the gun
And with sightless eyes shot down the one
Called old Juan de la Cruz
The rest of our story now soft and clear
How half our daily bread appears
Picked through the summer by young and old
Whose earnings must last through the winter's cold
By children who have stood with their backs bent down
To scrape the roots from the grower's ground
And mothers who have wept the night away
For a child born dead on a rainy day
Well it's true that blessed are the poor
Through an iron mist - I can't be sure -
It looks like I see heaven's door
Swinging wide for de la Cruz
The nuns, the priests and the workers sing
Through a valley of blood their voices ring
Hallelujah, he is risen, and thank you, Lord
For old Juan de la Cruz
Hallelujah, he is risen, and thank you, Lord
For old Juan de la Cruz
(Words and Music by Joan Baez) Once again the workers rise with the lark There's a mass going on in the people's park Silent and determined they set to embark On a three day fast and a five mile march For a man's been shot on the picket line Sixty years of strength was young for dying His family is here with eyes of red His wife steps down with feet of lead And the sun shines down upon The old man whose days are done For a martyr has been taken He is old Juan de la Cruz And a century of women pray At the casket before them laid And the Virgin of Guadalupe Watches over de la Cruz As the heat poured down on the field below The lead came a-flying from the vineyard row De la Cruz and his wife never ducked or ran Union folks since the fight began People scattered out laying low to the ground And slowly arose as the dust died down Birds fluttered soft in his sweet wife's breast As the bullets sank deep in the old man's chest The tears fell as Cesar read The eulogy for the dead And the Bishop broke the people's bread Over old Juan de la Cruz In the pitch of night a deal was made The deck's oldest card was played And the devil watched someone get paid For the death of de la Cruz Thirty years ago in the same damn spot The people who ordered the workers shot Fought as the poor for the same damn right Of their children to sleep well fed at night Oh Children of Brotherhood how you've grown But the seeds of hate were early sown I see that your souls have long since flown To the river of greed where angels moan Midst flowered veils and weathered graves And flags where the great black eagle waves Nosotros Venceremos plays For old Juan de la Cruz There's work today that must be done Pray for the man who held the gun And with sightless eyes shot down the one Called old Juan de la Cruz The rest of our story now soft and clear How half our daily bread appears Picked through the summer by young and old Whose earnings must last through the winter's cold By children who have stood with their backs bent down To scrape the roots from the grower's ground And mothers who have wept the night away For a child born dead on a rainy day Well it's true that blessed are the poor Through an iron mist - I can't be sure - It looks like I see heaven's door Swinging wide for de la Cruz The nuns, the priests and the workers sing Through a valley of blood their voices ring Hallelujah, he is risen, and thank you, Lord For old Juan de la Cruz Hallelujah, he is risen, and thank you, Lord For old Juan de la Cruz Explain Request ×
Lyrics taken from
/lyrics/j/joan_baez/juan_de_la_cruz.html
