Lyrics: John Leslie.
Tune: “O’Donnell Abú.”
Shout, for the rage of the wronged has ascended!
Shout, for the tyrants no longer hold sway!
Shout, for the rule of the robbers is ended!
Shout, for the vengeance before us to-day!
They who ne’er pity knew now will have cause to rue;
Hunger and hardships they made us to dree.
Helots in hunger nursed, slaves of their reign accursed,
Stint not your vengeance till Labor is free.
Fools as we were in their honor confiding,
We furnished their feasts with the price of our shame,
And our meanness was food for their mirth and deriding;
In murder they steeped us to blazon their fame!
Now, as with naked glaives, stand we no longer slaves;
Freemen to tyrants no debtors should be;
Down on the hated foe; pay back the debt we owe
Coined in their carnage till Labor is free!
Joy for the day when our standard is omen
And sign of salvation floats proudly on high,
When its grim ruddy glare in the sun tells the foemen
Around it we’ve sworn to conquer or die!
Strong in our countless might, strong in our conscious right,
Down on their armies like waves of the sea,
On, know not break or pause, on, in your children’s cause,
Strike home and spare not till Labor is free!
The slogan is sounding, hurrah, how it gathers
The thousands from city, and mountain, and plain,
Who have vowed to be free in the land of their fathers,
No more to submit to the yoke and the chain.
Forward the red flag, then, on, now as valiant men,
Freedom looks on us and shouts her decree.
Deep must our vengeance smart; strike to the tyrant’s heart.
Mercy we know not till Labor is free!