The Workers' Marselllaise

Ye sons of toil, awake to glory!
Hark, hark, what myriads bid you rise; 
Your children, wives and grandsires hoary
Behold their tears and hear their cries! 
Behold their tears and hear their cries!
Shall hateful tyrants mischief breeding, 
With hireling hosts, a ruffian band–
Affright and desolate the land,
While peace and liberty lie bleeding?

Chorus

To arms! to arms! ye brave! 
Th' avenging sword unsheathe! 
March on, march on, all hearts resolved 
On Victory or Death.

With luxury and pride surrounded, 
The vile, insatiate despots dare,
Their thirst for gold and power unbounded 
To mete and vend the light and air, 
To mete and vend the light and air,
Like beasts of burden, would they load us, 
Like gods would bid their slaves adore, 
But man is man, and who is more?
Then shall they longer lash and goad us? 

0, Liberty can man resign thee?
Once having felt thy generous flame, 
Can dungeon's bolts and bars confine thee?
Or whips, thy noble spirit tame?
Or whips, thy noble spirit tame? 
Too long the world has wept bewailing,
That Falsehood's dagger tyrants wield;
But Freedom is our sword and shield; 
And all their arts are unavailing!