Workin' in the Rain

[This poem is about Harry Connell, long time activist and founder member of the Builders Labourers Rank and File Committee in the early 1950s.]
Harry, they're workin' in the rain, Harry, mate, they're workin' in the rain, Down in George St., mate, loading Slippery, slithery, beams of steel, in George St., mate In Sydney, in 1992, workin' in the rain.
Geez, you pushed the rickshaws down there, The ones with big metal wheels, wheelin' concrete, When you come back from the war ...
"Which war, son? Merriwa, Wee-waa, or Goorianawa? I was in a war from the day I was born. In Paddo's Women's Hospital, Eight kids in two rooms in Paddo ..."
Harry, they're workin' in the rain, I'm standin' in the rain, lookin' at your name, Harry, Harry, come back and tell 'em, I can hear you now ... "We want a new union consciousness, A new thrust, a new emphasis, Green bans ..."
Harry, you told me about Niu Guini, and how The enemy kept calling out in Australian slang: "Over here, Blue! Over here, Curl! Over here, Snow! And you cried out: "Over here, Adolf And bring Tojo wiv yu!"
But, Harry, today the enemy uses slang, I mean the Corporations, and the Billionaires, In the media, you know for "virtual reality", And for "manufacturing dissent", and the Aussie Can he see through it any more, can he?
Harry, remember when the boss asked Mick What the award was? "What's the award?" And Mick said: "$193.40", and they paid it for 3 months, What was it? "$143.40".
Harry, they're workin' in the rain. Remember Mick and Donny with the spirit level On the scaffolding, and Mick claiming height Money on the ground floor, and got it. "That's not height", says the "Rain Rat", "You can't get height money for that!"
"What about the three basements underneath us, You bloody Dubbo!" And they paid it!
Harry, they're workin' in the rain. Harry, remember Dirty Dirt and Clean Dirt. "Now there's dirty dirt, and clean dirt, And all our dirt is clean dirt, so you Can't claim dirt money on this job." But we got it.
Harry, come back, they're workin' In the rain. Harry, with your trout-freckled skin, And your gnarled half-back's body, more bends And bumps than bush furniture. Harry come back,
Come back and tell 'em, Harry,
They're workin' in the rain ... ... Denis Kevans

From GLW issue 210