What shall I do?
What shall I do?
Father, penniless! Rent? No.
He was a farmer, the year was bad, so
He killed himself a year ago.
Now soldiers come, the bugles blow,
Raping the women, you take them where you go!
O my mother, where do they keep you now?
Who can pay with father gone!
The landlord come, there is no one
Here but old, old folks with money gone!
The rich man smiles in garments of gold.
My elder sister but fifteen, must be sold.
The rich man cares for nothing — but women and gold.
Grandfather is too old to be a wage slave.
Grandmother stands near the edge of the grave.
No more firm-breasted sister of fifteen,
She is a concubine, though young and green.
What shall I do?
What shall I do?
Only one way:
I must leave today.
Faster than a horse can I move my legs,
Pulling the chaise I shall be a horse instead;
I shall not worry to earn my bread.
Ta! ta! ta! ta!
Pulling rickshaw!
How far, how far?
Way beyond the dimming star!
Ta! ta! ta! ta!
Pulling rickshaw!
How long, how long?
Till the moon has come and the sun has gone!
Ta! ta! ta! ta!
Pulling rickshaw!
The cruel wind ruffles my heavy hair!
The stormy rain washes my body in chilling air!
Ta! ta! ta! ta!
Pulling rickshaw!
On my back is my bed!
In the rickshaw is my shed!
Ta! ta! ta! ta!
Pulling rickshaw!
Surpassing the horse's speed!
Ta! ta! ta! ta!
Pulling rickshaw!
My silent sobs are bitter, and I run and run!
The rich man smiles merrily, and has lots of fun!
Ta! ta! ta! ta!
Pulling rickshaw!
I beg for one copper tip,
The rich man answers with a ruthless kick!
Ta! ta! ta! ta!
Pulling rickshaw!
North! east! south! west!
Is the grave the only place a workingman may rest?
Ta! ta! ta! ta!
Pulling rickshaw!
International Park, no dogs nor " Chinese " admitted,
None but rich " Chinese " may be permitted!
Ta! ta! ta! ta!
Pulling rickshaw!
O, I shall die!
Blood pouring from this mouth of mine,
I shall die in the street's wet slime!
O missionary, you whip me with an extra dime,
Rushing to the station to meet your loving boy on time!
O! father, in death you are wasted low,
O! mother, who knows where you are now;
Sister, your misery is grandparents' woe.
Grandmother and father, you are not lonely in gloom,
For I still can feed you in my tomb.
O, horse, you are lucky! your master gives you care,
Sometimes he releases you in the fresh air,
O, motor car, you are lucky! Your master gives you care,
Sometimes he spends money for your repair.
O, rich man now you make me pull rickshaw,
Some day I will make you eat rickshaw!
O, fellow workingmen, only to you dare I cry!
How poor I die!
How poor I die!
O workingmen, you are the rich men's fools!
Rich men use you for their tools!
O, workingmen, arise! Be no more fools!
O, workingmen, be nobody's tools!
What shall I do?
Father, penniless! Rent? No.
He was a farmer, the year was bad, so
He killed himself a year ago.
Now soldiers come, the bugles blow,
Raping the women, you take them where you go!
O my mother, where do they keep you now?
Who can pay with father gone!
The landlord come, there is no one
Here but old, old folks with money gone!
The rich man smiles in garments of gold.
My elder sister but fifteen, must be sold.
The rich man cares for nothing — but women and gold.
Grandfather is too old to be a wage slave.
Grandmother stands near the edge of the grave.
No more firm-breasted sister of fifteen,
She is a concubine, though young and green.
What shall I do?
What shall I do?
Only one way:
I must leave today.
Faster than a horse can I move my legs,
Pulling the chaise I shall be a horse instead;
I shall not worry to earn my bread.
Ta! ta! ta! ta!
Pulling rickshaw!
How far, how far?
Way beyond the dimming star!
Ta! ta! ta! ta!
Pulling rickshaw!
How long, how long?
Till the moon has come and the sun has gone!
Ta! ta! ta! ta!
Pulling rickshaw!
The cruel wind ruffles my heavy hair!
The stormy rain washes my body in chilling air!
Ta! ta! ta! ta!
Pulling rickshaw!
On my back is my bed!
In the rickshaw is my shed!
Ta! ta! ta! ta!
Pulling rickshaw!
Surpassing the horse's speed!
Ta! ta! ta! ta!
Pulling rickshaw!
My silent sobs are bitter, and I run and run!
The rich man smiles merrily, and has lots of fun!
Ta! ta! ta! ta!
Pulling rickshaw!
I beg for one copper tip,
The rich man answers with a ruthless kick!
Ta! ta! ta! ta!
Pulling rickshaw!
North! east! south! west!
Is the grave the only place a workingman may rest?
Ta! ta! ta! ta!
Pulling rickshaw!
International Park, no dogs nor " Chinese " admitted,
None but rich " Chinese " may be permitted!
Ta! ta! ta! ta!
Pulling rickshaw!
O, I shall die!
Blood pouring from this mouth of mine,
I shall die in the street's wet slime!
O missionary, you whip me with an extra dime,
Rushing to the station to meet your loving boy on time!
O! father, in death you are wasted low,
O! mother, who knows where you are now;
Sister, your misery is grandparents' woe.
Grandmother and father, you are not lonely in gloom,
For I still can feed you in my tomb.
O, horse, you are lucky! your master gives you care,
Sometimes he releases you in the fresh air,
O, motor car, you are lucky! Your master gives you care,
Sometimes he spends money for your repair.
O, rich man now you make me pull rickshaw,
Some day I will make you eat rickshaw!
O, fellow workingmen, only to you dare I cry!
How poor I die!
How poor I die!
O workingmen, you are the rich men's fools!
Rich men use you for their tools!
O, workingmen, arise! Be no more fools!
O, workingmen, be nobody's tools!