For Labor’s Rights (James Connolly)

Lyrics: James Connolly (a translation of “Auf Socialisten”).
Tune: Lost.


Up, brothers, up the drums are beating,
And see on high the banners wave,
Close up our ranks, let no retreating
Be ours whilst earth contains a slave.
Till all alike our triumph won
Shall know the splendor of the sun,
And drink of wisdom’s holiest spring,
This is the prize our armies bring.

A holy war for Labor’s right,
A holy war for Labor’s right;
For Labor’s cause,
For Labor’s cause
Shall win the fight.

O, brothers, ye whose hosts uncounted
Must toil to win a scanty wage,
Whose backs were bent that robbers, mounted,
Might ride thereon from age to age.
No longer now in thralldom grown,
Your strong right hand must take your own
And by that act to manhood spring
Such is the prize our armies bring.

A holy war for Labor’s right,
A holy war for Labor’s right;
For Labor’s cause,
For Labor’s cause
Shall win the fight.

The tyrants hope a conquering sword
Will stem the onward march of right,
But Truth o’er all their barbarous horde
Leads Freedom’s host to Freedom’s height.
To break the sword of war and pain
That peace and joy o’er earth may reign
And conquering hosts of Labor sing
This is the prize our armies bring.

A holy war for Labor’s right,
A holy war for Labor’s right;
For Labor’s cause,
For Labor’s cause
Shall win the fight.


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