We have seen the picture of Packingtown
Painted in blood-red, black and brown
As only Sinclair can;
We have heard the story long and sweet
Of how they prepare the food we eat,
We are hearing a plenty about the meat—
But how about the man?

Somebody did it. Somebody knew—
Somebody excellent profits drew
From this public poisoning plan;
They are pushing a Bill to finish the fun,—
But think of the mischief that has been done!—
Is there no blame coming to any one?
How about the man?

He has killed out competitors honest but small,
He's grown rich on the money that comes from us all
For his death-dealing package and can;
We pay him for meat, but he finds pleasant ways
To feed us on filth, to shorten our days
With ptomaines—and also the prices to raise—
Now how about the man?