Page:When the Leaves Come Out (Chaplin 1917).pdf/20

 

The War is on—a growing storm against your outposts hurled. It is no war of compromise; the death-flag is unfurled. The armies of the dispossessed lay siege unto the world.

This is our war—our Holy War—the final Social Strife. No mercy do we ask or give—no other prize but Life; A war to win or lose the world—a battle to the knife.

Too long you gouged us one by one, and gloried in our fall, Or when we fought dividedly you crushed us to the wall; But now we know the hurt of one is injury to all.

No flags or tongues keep us apart; our creed is to be free. The only Fatherland we have is world-wide Industry. Where ere we toil we face the foe—our Common Enemy.

Too long we drudged like driven beasts beneath your iron sway; Too long we faced, diverted, dumb, your hell-hounds in the fray; Now WAR is on and YOU'RE the one to settle and to pay.

In One Big Union now we stand, the world to gain and own, And in your beastly ugly face our battle-cry is thrown. The earth with all its unborn wealth is OURS and ours ALONE. 