The Worker’s Moot

(First yedding)

Arise, ye inmates of hunger!

Arise, ye wretched of the earth!

For rightness thunders fordeeming:

A better world's in birth!

No more folkway's fetters shall bind us;

Arise, ye thralls, no more in thrall!

The earth shall rise on new groundworks:

We have been nought, we shall be all!


 'Tis the last fight; 

 Let each stand in his spot.  

 The worker’s moot  

 Shall be all of man! 

 'Tis the last fight;  

 Let each stand in his spot.  

 The worker’s moot  

 Shall be all of man!

(Second yedding)

We want no belittling sparers

To rule us from a deemship hall;

We workers ask not for their blessings;

Let us weigh-in for all.

To make the thief give up his booty

To free the soul from its bonds,

We must ourselves settle our deedwork,

We must choose, and do it well.


(Third yedding)

Toilers from shops and fields bonded,

The gathering 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 bothersome birds of feng

Shall melt from the sky some morning,

The blessed sunlight still will stay.


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