Lyrics: Peggy Seeger.
Tune: Peggy Seeger.
I love those who labor. I sing of the farmers
And weavers and fishermen and miners as well.
Now, all you who hear me, I pray you draw near me.
Before you grow weary, I’ll sing of myself.
I was brought up in plenty until I was twenty,
A joy to myself as but children can be;
A joy to my father, a joy to my mother,
The pain of my country was nothing to me.
My school days being over, I became a rover
To Russia and China, to France and to Spain.
I lived at my leisure; I lived but for pleasure.
And so, none the wiser, to England I came.
I thought it no danger to follow a stranger,
But with time changing, a friend he became
For the joys of a lover can equal no other,
Forever anew and yet always the same.
Good fortune attending, we don’t lack a living,
Our children a blessing, our joy to renew.
But to live amid plenty can only torment me
When the wealth of the many belongs to the few.
I join with the angry; I join with the hungry.
For long years of anguish, the price will be paid.
To hate and to anger, I am not a stranger.
I welcome the danger, and yet I’m afraid.
For I fear the fate of the rebels and fighters
Who ransom the future with torture and pain.
As the trial comes near, if I find I can dare it,
With joy, I will share it, no longer afraid.
For I’ve learned to be angry; I’ve learned to be lonely.
I’ve learned to be many; I’ve learned to be one.
I’ve earned all my friends; even foes will commend me.
I stand with the many; I am not alone.
In the presence of fighters, I find a new peace.
In the company of others, I replenish myself.
Of miners and weavers, of rebels and dreamers,
When I sing of my brothers, I sing of myself.