[Voice: Male bari-tenor. Earthy Appalachian storyteller; traditional verses powerful and steady, rap sections conversational, tightly rhythmic, and increasingly intense.] [Intro: Sparse, almost spoken] John Henry was a little baby boy, Sittin' on his mama's knee, Said, “That hammer's gonna be my ruin, Lord, That hammer's gonna be the death of me.” [Verse 1] John Henry said to his captain, “A man ain't nothin' but a man, Before I let your steam drill beat me down, I'm gonna die with this hammer in my hand.” [Chorus] John Henry hammered on the mountain, His hammer was like a bell, He beat that steam drill down the mountain, But John Henry's hammer fell. [Rap 1: Conversational, building] They brought that machine from somewhere up north, Said, “Boys, better step aside. This iron's gonna do your work And it's gonna do it twice.” John looked at that drill Like it had spoken out of turn, Said, “You might be made of iron, But you don't know what a man's worth.” A machine can count the minutes, A machine can count the blows, But it never held a newborn child Or buried one it knows. It never felt a paycheck Disappear before the week, Never watched a family waiting For the supper you can't bring. So put that hammer in his hand, Put that drill against the stone. One was built to replace him. One had made that mountain home. [Verse 2] John Henry told his captain, “A man ain't nothin' but a man, Before I let that steam drill beat me down, I'm gonna die with this hammer in my hand.” [Verse 3] The captain said to John Henry, “What makes your hammer ring?” John Henry said, “I'll beat that steel Till the mountains start to sing.” [Rap 2: Harder, more rhythmic] Down inside that mountain Where the daylight disappears, Every swing gets heavier, Every breath gets harder here. There's a dollar on the promise, There's a deadline on the wall, And the man who owns the mountain Don't feel the mountain fall. That's the part they leave behind When they polish up the tale. They tell you how he beat the drill, They don't tell you how men fail. They don't tell you about the sweat, They don't tell you about the cost, Don't tell you how a working man Can disappear and still be lost. John Henry wasn't fighting iron. He wasn't fighting steel. He was fighting that cold question: “Are you only what you yield?” [Chorus] John Henry hammered on the mountain, His hammer was like a bell, He beat that steam drill down the mountain, But John Henry's hammer fell. [Verse 4] The steam drill started hammering, John Henry started too, John Henry swung his fourteen-pound hammer, And that steam drill twenty-two. [Rap 3: Intense, then reflective] Hammer on the left hand, Thunder on the right, John Henry gave that mountain Everything he had inside. The drill kept turning forward, The hammer kept its time, And somewhere in that darkness A man became a line. Not a line in some ledger, Not a number on a page, But a story passed from worker To worker through the age. Because everybody knows the feeling When the new thing comes to town, And somebody with a clipboard Says your old way's wearing down. They call it progress, call it business, Call it cheaper, call it smart. But a machine can take a man's job— It can't replace his heart. [Bridge: Pull back] John Henry said to his shaker, “Man, why don't you pray?” The shaker said to John Henry, “I'll pray when John Henry wins the day.” [Rap 4: Final build] So maybe John Henry knew it, Maybe that's what made him brave: You can't hammer back the future, You can't beat the coming age. But you can choose how you meet it, You can choose what you defend. You can stand there like a mountain When the world says you should bend. And when the last swing landed And the hammer slipped away, He didn't beat the future— He made the future remember his name. [Final Chorus: Full, powerful] John Henry hammered on the mountain, His hammer was like a bell, He beat that steam drill down the mountain, But John Henry's hammer fell. John Henry hammered on the mountain, His hammer was like a bell, He beat that steam drill down the mountain, But John Henry's hammer fell. [Outro: Bare, intimate] John Henry was a little baby boy, Sittin' on his mama's knee... That hammer's gonna be my ruin, Lord, That hammer's gonna be the death of me.
