Long live labour, for she is just
Her truest servants for public triumph lust,
In common solidarity,
International confraternity,
Marx saw arrow of eternity,
Vindicate workers history,
In pure and sublime destiny,
When ruse no longer mystery,
We rise up, vanquish calumny.
Verse of 1917 a rapture,
Harbor we a love of life and all its creatures,
Considering the workers to be teachers,
Marx, the most exquisite of their preachers,
Saw all workers hearts as twins,
Not stratified by cash for sins,
Alas for freedom all not sunny,
World captive runs with blood to march of money.
Arise ye children from your mistake,
Like wealth through which the devil spake,
But off our ******* like feathers shake,
Revolution as ears strive awake,
Our laugh to have and eat our cake,
Cake for all, not just Versailles,
A voluptuous but tortured mile.
Reds rancorous, with passion riled,
Solidarity can't be defiled,
By radical community beguiled,
Communism waking to go wild,
The devil lost at cosmic blackjack,
Thought Trotsky, peasant, didn't have the knack,
But we have dealt red lucky flush,
And vindication through us rush,
Victory tasted sweetest lush,
Devil's wits do lack.
Feb 28, 2018
Feb 28, 2018 at 12:22 PM UTC
Long live labour, for she is just
Her truest servants for public triumph lust,
In common solidarity,
International confraternity,
Marx saw arrow of eternity,
Vindicate workers history,
In pure and sublime destiny,
When ruse no longer mystery,
We rise up, vanquish calumny.
Verse of 1917 a rapture,
Harbor we a love of life and all its creatures,
Considering the workers to be teachers,
Marx, the most exquisite of their preachers,
Saw all workers hearts as twins,
Not stratified by cash for sins,
Alas for freedom all not sunny,
World captive runs with blood to march of money.
Arise ye children from your mistake,
Like wealth through which the devil spake,
But off our ******* like feathers shake,
Revolution as ears strive awake,
Our laugh to have and eat our cake,
Cake for all, not just Versailles,
A voluptuous but tortured mile.
Reds rancorous, with passion riled,
Solidarity can't be defiled,
By radical community beguiled,
Communism waking to go wild,
The devil lost at cosmic blackjack,
Thought Trotsky, peasant, didn't have the knack,
But we have dealt red lucky flush,
And vindication through us rush,
Victory tasted sweetest lush,
Devil's wits do lack.
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