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US, THE HOBOES AND DREAMERS

We shall laugh to scorn your power that now holds the world in awe,
We shall trample on your customs and shall spit upon your law;
We shall come up from life’s desert to your burdened banquet hall,
We shall turn your wine to wormwood, your honey into gall.

We shall go where wail the children, where from your race killing mills
Flows a bloody stream of profit to your cursed insatiate tills;
We shall tear from your drivers in our shame and angered pride,
With the fury and the fierceness of a fatherhood denied.

We shall set our sisters on you, those you trapped in your hells,
Where the mother instinct’s stifled and no earthly beauty dwells;
We shall call them from the living death, the death in life you gave,
To sing our class’s triumph o’er your cruel system’s grave.

We shall strip them of their epaulets, the panderers who fight
Your wars against the workers from a bone on which to bite;
We shall batter down your prisons, we shall set your chain-gangs free,
We shall drive you from the mountainside, the valley, plain, and sea.

We shall hunt around the fences where your oxen-men sweat and gape
Till they stampede down your stockades in the panic to escape;
We shall steal up through the darkness, we shall prowl to wood and town
Till they waken to their power and arise and ride you down.

We shall send a message to them on a whisper down the night,
And shall cheer the warrior women drive the ox-men to fight;
We shall use your guile against you-all the cunning you have taught,
All the wisdom of the serpent to attain the ending sought.

We shall come as comes the cyclone-in the stillness we shall form,
From the calm your terror fashioned, we shall hurl on your storm;
We shall strike when least expected, when you deem toil’s route complete,
And crush you and your Hessians ‘neath our brogan-shodded feet.

We shall laugh to scorn your power that now holds the world in awe
We shall trample on your customs, we shall spit upon your law,
We shall outrage all your temples, we shall blaspheme all your gods,-
We shall turn the Slave World over as a plowman turns the clods.

----- Covington Hall, (1871-1952)
Journalist and poet, professor and union organizer, advocate of sabotage and the general strike, Hall was an opponent of white supremacy and empire, an advocate of gender equality. Don;t know about anarchist, but these words decades later . . .