our masters bled us white for rich red wine
and on the labours of our flesh they'd dine
they wouldn't even give us bread
went and lost their heads instead
our masters bled us white for rich red wine
and on the labours of our flesh they'd dine
they wouldn't even give us bread
went and lost their heads instead
the guillotine was a great successbut got us in a bloody mess
we couldn't stanch the artery
when we threw the dog a marrow bone
we knew the body was our own
what happened next is more history
another tyrant stepped in fast
distracting us from nightmares past
promised to relieve our pain
and told us what to do again
FILE UNDER HISTORY: that's progress...
(March 1871 - 1921)
'Our appeals have been answered with bullets.'
(The Provisional Revolutionary Committee)
Spring's on the cold side this year
seeds asleep in the flower bed
but something is astir
workers striking to get fed
begin to bake their daily bread
the landless serf
salt-of-the-earth
and the sailor boy from sea
say we don't need no soviet
we just want to be free
the Comissar replies O NIET
as yet that cannot be
'we shall shall shoot them down like partridges'
Comrade Trotsky's got the cartridges
it all seems a little unfair
when thunder of guns splits the air
streets are littered with dead
people mown down like hay
and as poor victims bled
the newspapers read
KRONSTADT CAPTURED TODAY
the censor keeps dispatches cursory
on this golden anniversary
leaders far away
timely and ironical
bewail the Paris Commune's tragic fall
[NB Embedded sound requires Internet Explorer]
