| PARTISAN'S SONG
Zog nit keynmol az du gayst dem
letzten veg,
Ven himlen blayene farshteln bloye
teg;
Vayl kumen vet noch undzer
oysgebenkte shuh,
Es vet a poyk tun undzer trot - mir
zaynen do!
Fun grinem palmenland biz land fun
vaysen shney,
Mir kumen un mit undzer payn, mit
undzer vey;
Un voo gefalen iz a shpritz fun
undzer blut,
Shpritzen vet dort undzer gvure,
undzer mut.
Es vet di morgenzun bagilden undz
dem haynt,
Un der nechten vet farshvinden mitn
faynt;
Nor oyb farzamen vet di zun in dem
ka-yor,
Vi a parol zol geyn dos leed fun
door tzu door.
Geshriben iz dos leed mit blut
und nit mit bly,
S'iz nit keyn leedl fun a foygel
oyf der fry;
Dos hut a folk tzvishen falendi-ke
vent,
Dos leed gezungen mit naganes in di
hent.
Zog nit keyn mol az du gayst dem
letzten veg,
Ven himlen blayene farshteln bloye
teg;
Kumen vet noch undzer oysgebenkte
shuh,
Es vet a poyk tun undzer trot -- mir
zaynen do!
***********************************
Never say that there is only death
for you,
Though leaden skies may be concealing
days of blue,
Because the hour we have hungered for
near;
Beneath our tread the earth shall
tremble -- we are here!
(cont.)
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From land of palm tree to the far-off
land of snow,
We shall be coming with our torment
and our woe;
And everywhere our blood has sunk into
the earth,
Shall our bravery, our vigor blossom
forth.
We'll have the morning sun to set
our day aglow,
And all our yesterdays shall vanish
with the foe;
And if the time is long before the
sun appears,
Then let this song go like a signal
through the years.
This song was written with blood and
not with lead;
It's not a song that summer birds sing
overhead;
It was a people among toppling
barricades,
That sang this song of ours with
pistols and grenades.
Never say that there is only death
for you,
Though leaden skies may be concealing
days of blue,
Because the hour we have hungered for
is near;
Beneath our tread the earth shall
tremble, -- we are here!
BANKER AND BOSS
Banker and boss hate the workers who
stand
Shoulder to shoulder in every land.
Though in the conflict our martyrs
may fall,
Labor united will conquer all.
CHORUS:
Then hear the thunder of
The toiling masses,
All creeds and colors, brain and
brawn;
United under
The Socialist banner,
Go marching forward to the dawn!
(Repeat chorus)
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