The Ballad of John Henry's Hammer

The Ballad of John Henry’s Hammer

John Henry was a steel drivin’ man,
Workin’ on that Carolina line,
They say he was the greatest ever lived,
He drove that steel ‘til the day he died.

His people built the future of the West,
With their own blood, sweat and tears,
With no thanks except to be called “Filthy Negroes”,
But their legend still endears.

Then one day down on the job,
The owner of the railroad said,
“Well, boys, you can go on home, yer work is finished,
We’ve gone and got us a steam drill instead.”

Well John Henry jumped up and shouted,
“Sir, though I’m only a mere steel drivin’ man,
I can’t let you do this to me and my men,
I’ll beat yer steam drill or else I’ll be damned!”

“John Henry, that is quite a wager!”
Said the scheming, shiny-eyed man,
Said John Henry, “Sir, I swear, before a damn machine beats me,
I will die with this here hammer in my hand.”

So they brought that steam drill down on the tracks,
It’s pistons hummed and whirred soft and low,
John Henry stood by with his hammer,
“On yer marks, ready, go!”

John Henry beat the steel on the right,
The steam drill ploughed along on the left,
John Henry’s crew stood in awe by the tracks,
“Damn fool’s gonna hammer himself to death!”

They knocked them rail spikes down, steel clangin’,
In that blistering Carolina sun,
The owner stood aside, eyes wide, jaw agape,
They hammer’d ‘til the day was nearly done.

When they reach’d Big Bend tunnel in the mountains,
John Henry exhausted, cover’d in sweat,
“Give up!” called the owner, “It’s over John Henry!
“A man is only a man, don’t forget!”

Well anger was burning in John Henry,
As he hammer’d them rail spikes down,
“Ungrateful white men, they replace us with machines,
Leave us with nothin’ but the dust on the ground.”

John Henry wouldn’t give, though he was beaten,
As the end of Big Bend loomed,
But rage and determination sped him on ahead,
That steam drill was wearin’ down, it was doomed.

As John Henry surged ahead, the steam drill gave an almighty howl,
“Stop! She can’t take it!” the owner cried,
The steam drill exploded as John Henry struck the second last spike,
At last, it seemed, he’d turned the tide.

John Henry stood victorious, his crew ‘a cheerin’,
But suddenly he felt sick and weak inside,
His heart beat so hard that it burst,
He tumbled into the dust and died.

As the workmen and the owner watched,
John’s hammer fell through the air ‘a spinnin’ down,
Spun once, twice, gleaming in the sunlight,
It fell and beat that last spike into the ground.

John Henry’s sacrifice was ignored and forgotten,
The workers lost their jobs to a new machine,
His widow and his child were left with naught but pain and sorrow,
Worker, husband, father, replaced by steam.

But they say when Big Bend’s quiet,
You can hear the cold steel ring,
And see John Henry ‘a standin’ down by the tracks,
Listenin’ to them ghostly hammers sing.


~D'Inkweaver