23
We'll sing in praises of future days,
The happy times to be,
When every man shall guard the plan
That every man be free.
We have no ties beyond the skies,
Our loves and hopes are here;
No holy fool can make us drool,
The dismal hymns of fear.
With ready hand we take our stand
To hope and work and fight;
And while we live, our strength we'll give,
For liberty and right.
We make all wealth, conserve all health,
By cunning craft and trade;
We bring all joys, for we're the boys
Of hammer, brush, and spade.
Then live the part that warms the heart,
And wakens manhood's pride;
All Nature's laws confirm the cause
For which our comrades died.
Some day we'll own the fields we've sown,
When hunger's rule is past;
No child shall slave to feed a knave,
When man is free at last.
THE "BLANKET STIFF."
He built the road,
With others of his class he built the road,
Now o'er it, many a weary mile, he packs his load,
Chasing a job, spurred on by hunger's goad,
He walks and walks and walks and walks,
And wonders why in Hell he built the road.
