Page:Songs of the workers 9th Edition.pdf/11

  Fruits of the workers' toil are buried
 * In the strong coffers of a few;

In working for their restitution
 * The men will only ask their due.

Toilers from shops and fields united,
 * The union 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 noisome birds of prey

Shall vanish from the sky some morning,
 * The blessed sunlight still will stay.

  