Lyrics: Laura Payne Emerson.
They are rising by the millions
In the land of Mexico.
Slaves and peons long downtrodden
Dare to strike their tyrant foe.
Weak and trembling from starvation,
Yet with spirit fierce and brave
They unite to break their fetters
And a dying race to save.
See them coming, hear them cheering;
Aye, the dawn for them appears;
Wives and mothers, sweethearts, children
Pray and weep in silent tears
From the mountains and the valleys,
From the hills and fertile plains
On, they’ll march in ceaseless warfare,
So long as mammon rules and reigns.
Though the guns and ammunition
Your enemy possess,
And the powers of states and churches
Are against you to oppress;
Yet within your ranks, ye workers,
Are the true sinews of war
Ye did make them, ye can break them;
Ye have made them what they are.
Better to face the cannon
Where you have a chance to win,
Then the awful endless torture
Of the world’s great battle din,
Where from child to grandsire hoary,
In field, in shop, and mine, and mill.
You like sheep are marked for slaughter
A master’s coffers full to fill.
And woe to lords of crime and plunder
Should they dare to interfere
While these toilers fight for freedom
And for all that man holds dear;
For the torch that they have lighted
And the flag they have unfurled
On the day of such invasion
Will go flaming ’round the world.
Workers of the world, awake!
Your comrades call from Mexico;
They care not for one grey haired tyrant;
A system damned they overthrow.
Class with class in deadly conflict
As it is throughout the land,
Rise! ye millions, as a unit,
And the wealth you’ve made demand.
Take your hand from off the throttle,
Leave the plow, the wheel, the mill,
Stop producing, stop transporting
Let the looms of life stand still
Till you gain the right to use them
For the good of all the world;
Till your flag of red, triumphant
In every land shall be unfurled.