Killing Floor lyricsFrom If You Don't Fight You Lose (1978), Rebel Chorus (1982), Anything's Legal, Anything Goes (1985), If You Don't Fight You Lose (1985), The Lost Album (late 1980s - unreleased), Against The Grain (2004) and The Essential Redgum (2011)
Killing Floor (Michael Atkinson) 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 ‘Cause 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 But he had to be a character too So he smuggled in Piranha just to break the law And he fed ‘em on kangaroo Bob’s pride was his handlebar moustache And he said he still combed out sand He pushed a tank the the Western desert So they made him the leading hand And the summer night shifts were long and cool And Charlie chain-smoked cigars Young David sweated in his speckled paint mask As he gazed out at the stars Crazy Charlie was a Yugoslav His straight eight Chevvy could move His ambition was to live on a hippy commune When Dave told him about free love Fred had been a farmer and a heavywight champ He had hands like a stumpjump plough He’d moved the earth with a thrust of his arm He was loading on the paintline 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 rumor ‘til the foreman came And hiding his shame with a cough He said they’re cutting back down to one shift now They’re going to 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… But their anger was spent in a rush of fire And then smouldered out of mind When they shook hands on that last grey day Each was in his way resigned And a few days later I saw old Joe And he looked like he’d aged ten years Drunk on the tiles of the Stag Hotel And he couldn’t hold back the tears Fred’d 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 Someday 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 |
1978 "If You Don't Fight You Lose" Album Version
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