All you rebel girls and rebel boys still sing those songs today   We fought the fights together but Joe Hill gave us words to say   We fought the fight for workers' rights and he fought by our sides   For that rebel voice at the age of thirty-six he died   He died for the workers' honor and he died as a wobbly martyr   And for every back that's breaking in every factory, mine, and mill   You've got a friend and you always will in Joe Hill.   Don't bury me in Utah; I wouldn't be caught dead in that state   Bill Spry turned his back while copper bosses sealed his fate   The wobblies marched into Chicago and they built a funeral pyre   Those downtown boys yelled, "ready, aim and" but Joe Hill's last words were "fire!"