“I. W. W.”
Lyrics: Donald Crocker.
Sons of the sansculottes
Savage, erect, disdainful,
Proud of their pariah estate,
They return to the civilization that has cast them out,
Hate for hate and blow for blow.
Society denied them all life’s sweet, soft, comfortable things,
And so society raised up unto itself its destroyers.
Reckless of the jails, of the policemen’s clubs, of the
lynching parties made up of frightened good citizens,
Cheerfully accepting the anathema of all reputable people
and lovers of law and order,
They laugh aloud and sing out of their little red book,
Blasphemous ribaldries against all the gods and all the masters.
(Beware, gods and masters, of rebels who laugh and sing!)
Onward to the conquest of earth these outlaws press,
Pausing by the corpses of their martyrs only long enough
To utter, grim-lipped: “We remember.”