On April the thirtieth
Nineteen thirty-three
Upon the streets of Wilder
They shot him brave and free

They shot my darling father
He fell upon the ground
'Twas in the back they shot him
His blood came streaming down

They took the pistol handles
And beat him on the head
The hired gunmen beat him
'Til he was cold and dead

When he left home that morning
I though he'd never return
But for my darlin' father
My heart shall ever yearn

We carried him to the graveyard
There we laid him down
To sleep in death for many a year
In the cold and sodden ground

Although he left the union
He tried so hard to build
His blood was spilled for justice
And justice guides us still