THE BALLAD OF THE AGITATOR

Industrial Unionist, Volume 1, Issue 6, 1 July 1913, Page 2

THE BALLAD OF THE AGITATOR

(By A.H.)

You shall read the tale of our lives, red-writ, On the nig’ht-black Avails of Pain. You shall trace our trail by the jibbet posts,— Fair memorials of our slain ! Where the whited bones, in dark undertones, Still defy the accursed chain. In the silent North, where the .pine-' woods sleep Till they shudder, reel, and crash; Where the miser-mountains tlieir hoard reveal At the torrent’s threat and thrash; We unfurled the flag, yea, the old, red rag, In defiance of Law and Lash. We obeyed the call of the siren-West, Her deceits, we made them plain; For her lovely eyes o’er the sky-line peep, And her lips are sought—in vain, But we sowed the seed, in the hour of need, And the slaves will reap the glam. We, have shown our hand in the drowsy East, And the yellow man, and brown, They joined the ranks of our martyred ones, They have laughed the tyrant down. There are lonely graves, ’mid the eastern waves, That shall find a fair renoAvn.

We are known Avhere coral and palm

creep out From the sun-white, glaring sand; We have camped out-Back in the deadly heat Of the Never-Never Land. Be it kauri pine, be it sea-deep mine, We have battled, hand to hand.

We have scoured the breadth of the Seven Seas, With the old, red flag in tow, We have told the man on the fo’c’sle Lead, He has told the boys below. Oh, the grimy ones, they are sons of guns When there comes a kick for dough ! There is not a land Avhere the slave must sweat, Not a town of soot or sun, But we dare the worst, and we give our best, And the work is freely done. Tho’ no tear be shed o’er our martyred dead, We are ever marching on. Whilst remains a breath, ’twixt the earth and sky, To unfurl our ensign red;

Whilst the hand of Toil wears the brand of Shame; Whilst the children cry for bread; We will make no pause. We’ll defy the laws Till the last of us be dead.