Page:Von Heidenstam - Sweden's laureate, selected poems of Verner von Heidenstam (1919).djvu/112

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Singers
But beware, money-lord, your knell will be rung!
Oppression is old but freedom is young.
She comes as a thief in the night.
She waits not to knock, but in she breaks
She tramples your carpets and hers she makes
Whatever you snatched with your might.

"There's a mine of powder by no means small
In the cellars under your castle wall.
A spark, and the mob will rally."
  ——Ding! Dong!——
"We bring an armful of stones along,
With torches we sally
From hovel and alley.
We shame your wife, we stick your swine,
We spill on the street your costliest wine.
Your roan must pull where we have striven.
And when to ashes your castle is burned,
Our hell will be turned
At once into your proud heaven.

"From our huts to the square we all drag out
Our straw and our tatters clout by clout.
On them shall your throne be, O money-king,
And your plundered purse for your apple we'll bring.
And drummers shall come and stand around
To thunder and pound
On your kitchen saucepans furiously,
And fifers shall toot in time with them
On crystal decanters your requiem.

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