Fruits of the workers' toil are buried
In the strong coffers of a few;
In working for their restitution
The men will only ask their due.
Toilers from shops and fields united,
The union we of all who work;
The earth belongs to us, the workers,
No room here for the shirk.
How many on our flesh have fattened!
But if the noisome birds of prey
Shall vanish from the sky some morning,
The blessed sunlight still will stay.
THE BANNER OF LABOR.
(Tune: "The Star Spangled Banner.")
Oh, say, can you hear, coming near and more near,
The call now resounding: "Come all ye who labor?"
The Industrial band, throughout all the land
Bid toilers remember each toiler his neighbor.
Come, workers, unite! 'tis Humanity's fight.
We call, you come forth in your manhood and might.
CHORUS:
And the BANNER OF LABOR will surely soon wave
O'er the land that is free, from the master and slave.
And the BANNER OF LABOR will surely soon wave
O'er the land that is free, from the master and slave.
The blood and the lives of children and wives
Are ground into dollars for parasites' pleasure;
The children now slave, till they sink in their grave—
That robbers may fatten and add to their treasure.
Will you idly sit by, unheeding their cry?
Arise! Be ye men! See, the battle draws nigh!
Long, long has the spoil of labor and toil
Been wrung from the workers by parasite classes;
While Poverty gaunt, Desolation and Want
Have dwelt in the bowels of earth's toiling masses.
Through bloodshed and tears, our day star appears,
INDUSTRIAL UNION, the wage slave now cheers.
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