Parasites in this fair country, live from honest labor's sweat;
There are some who never labor, yet labor's product get;
They never starve or freeze, nor face the wintry breeze;
They are well fed, clothed and sheltered,
And they do whate'er they please.
These parasites are living, in luxury and state;
While millions starve and shiver, and moan their wretched fate;
They know not why they die, nor do they ever try
Their lot in life to better;
They only mourn and sigh.
These parasites would vanish and leave this grand old world,
If the workers fought together, and the scarlet flag unfurled;
When in One Union grand, the working class shall stand,
The parasites will vanish
And the workers rule the land.
UP FROM YOUR KNEES!
By Ralph H. Chaplin.
(Air: "Song of a Thousand Years.")
Up from your knees, ye cringing serfmen!
What have ye gained by whines and tears?
Rise! they can never break our spirits
Though they should try a thousand years.
CHORUS:
A thousand years, then speed the victory!
Nothing can stop us nor dismay.
After the winter comes the springtime;
After the darkness comes the day.
Break ye your chains; strike off your fetters;
Beat them to swords—the foe appears—
Slaves of the world, arise and crush him;
Crush him or serve a thousand years.
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