Eight Hours
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We mean to make things over, we are tired of toil for naught,

With but bare enough to live upon, and never an hour for thought;

We want to feel the sunshine, and we want to smell the flowers,

We are sure that God has will'd it, and we mean to have eight hours.

We're summoning our forces from the shipyard, shop, and mill:

Eight hours for work, eight hours for rest, eight hours for what we will!

Eight hours for work, eight hours for rest, eight hours for what we will!


The beasts that graze the hillside, and the birds that wander free,

In the life that God has meted have a better lot than we.

Oh! hands and hearts are weary, and homes are heavy with dole;

If our life's to be filled with drudgery, what need of a human soul!

Shout, shout the lusty rally from shipyard, shop, and mill:

Eight hours for work, eight hours for rest, eight hours for what we will!

Eight hours for work, eight hours for rest, eight hours for what we will!


The voice of God within us is calling us to stand

Erect, as is becoming to the work of his right hand.

Should he, to whom the maker his glorious image gave,

The meanest of his creatures crouch, a bread and butter slave?

Let the shout ring down the valleys and echo from ev'ry hill:

Eight hours for work, eight hours for rest, eight hours for what we will!

Eight hours for work, eight hours for rest, eight hours for what we will!


Ye deem they're feeble voices that are raised in labor's cause?

But bethink ye of the torrent, and the wild tornado's laws!

We say not toil's uprising in terror's shape will come,

Yet the world were wise to listen to the monitory hum,

Soon, soon the deep-toned rally shall all the nations thrill:

Eight hours for work, eight hours for rest, eight hours for what we will!

Eight hours for work, eight hours for rest, eight hours for what we will!


From factories and workshops, in long and weary lines,

From all the sweltering forges, and from out the sunless mines,

Wherever toil is wasting the force of life to live,

There the bent and battered armies come to claim what God doth give,

And the blazon on their banner doth with hope the nations fill:

Eight hours for work, eight hours for rest, eight hours for what we will!

Eight hours for work, eight hours for rest, eight hours for what we will!


Hurrah, hurrah for labor! for it shall arise in might;

It has filled the world with plenty, it shall fill the world with light;

Hurrah, hurrah for labor! it is mustering all its powers,

And shall march along to victory with the banner of Eight Hours!

Shout, shout the echoing rally till all the welkin thrill:

Eight hours for work, eight hours for rest, eight hours for what we will!

Eight hours for work, eight hours for rest, eight hours for what we will!

Hutchinson Family

Jesse Henry Jones. "Eight Hours." Lyrics: I. G. Blanchard. Music: Rev. Jesse H. Jones. First line: "We mean to make things over, we are tired of toil for naught." First line of chorus: "Eight hours for work, eight hours for rest, eight hours for what we will!" N.d. [1866 or later].






[earliest Hutchinson Family publicity likeness]
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Notes copyright © 2002 by Alan Lewis.
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Isaac Blanchard, Isaac G Blanchard, I G Blanchard, Philip S Foner, Donna Halper of Emerson College, Donna L Halper of Emerson College, Jesse Jones, Jesse Henry Jones, Jesse H Jones, NEMS, New England Music Scrapbook. Eight Hours