James Connolly, The Wolfe Tones Song Lyrics And Guitar Chords
The easy to play guitar chords format is chordpro. James Connelly was born in 1868 in a poor family, He was self-educated and became a brilliant public speaker. He was formost a militant workers leader in the Irish Transport And General Workers Union under the leadership of James Larkin. Just one week before the rising in 1916 he warned the Citizen army the odds were one thousand to one against winning. The song was also recorded by Donegal singer Margo, Johnny McEvoy, Charlie And The Bhoys Paddy Reilly and Jim McCann who used to play with The Dubliners. James Connolly tenor guitar / mandola tab tuned CGDA now added.
The Song Words With Easy Chords In G Major
[Capo 2nd.fret for my version which turns the key to A Major]
A[G] great crowd had gathered,outs[C]ide of Kil[G]
mainham,
Thier[C] heads all un[G]covered,they[A] knelt to the [D]ground.
For[G] inside that grim prison,lay a[C] brave Irish[G] soilder,
His[C] life for his[G] country[D] about to lay[G] down
[2]
He went to his death like a true son of Ireland,
The firing party he bravely did face.
Then the order ran out,present arms and fire,
James Connolly fell into a ready made grave.
[3]
The black flag was hoisted,the cruel deed was over.
Gone was a man who loved Ireland so well,
There was many a sad heart,in Dublin that morning,
When they murdered James Connolly,the Irish rebel
[4]
Many years have gone by since that Irish rebellion,
When the guns of Britannia,they loudly did speak,
And the bold I.R.A. they stood shoulder to shoulder,
As the blood from their bodies flowed down Sackville street
[5]
The four courts of Dublin,the English bombarded,
The spirit they tried hard to quell,
But above all the dim came the cry no surrender,
Was the voice of James Connolly,the Irish rebel.
[Capo 2nd.fret for my version which turns the key to A Major]
A[G] great crowd had gathered,outs[C]ide of Kil[G]
mainham,
Thier[C] heads all un[G]covered,they[A] knelt to the [D]ground.
For[G] inside that grim prison,lay a[C] brave Irish[G] soilder,
His[C] life for his[G] country[D] about to lay[G] down
[2]
He went to his death like a true son of Ireland,
The firing party he bravely did face.
Then the order ran out,present arms and fire,
James Connolly fell into a ready made grave.
[3]
The black flag was hoisted,the cruel deed was over.
Gone was a man who loved Ireland so well,
There was many a sad heart,in Dublin that morning,
When they murdered James Connolly,the Irish rebel
[4]
Many years have gone by since that Irish rebellion,
When the guns of Britannia,they loudly did speak,
And the bold I.R.A. they stood shoulder to shoulder,
As the blood from their bodies flowed down Sackville street
[5]
The four courts of Dublin,the English bombarded,
The spirit they tried hard to quell,
But above all the dim came the cry no surrender,
Was the voice of James Connolly,the Irish rebel.
The Poem Before James Connolly By Liam McGowan
The man was all shot through that came to day into the Barrack Square And a soldier I, I am not proud to say that we killed him there They brought him from the prison hospital and to see him in that chair I swear his smile would, would far more quickly call a man to prayer.
Maybe, maybe I don't understand this thing that makes these rebels die Yet all men love freedom and the spring clear in the sky
I wouldn't do this deed again for all that I hold by As I gazed down my rifle at his breast but then, then a soldier I. They say he was different, kindly too apart from all the rest. A lover of the poor-his wounds ill dressed. He faced us like a man who knew a greater pain Than blows or bullets ere the world began: died he in vain Ready, Present, and him just smiling,
Christ I felt my rifle shake His wounds all open and around his chair a pool of blood And I swear his lips said, "fire" before my rifle shot that cursed lead And I, I was picked to kill a man like that, James Connolly.
The man was all shot through that came to day into the Barrack Square And a soldier I, I am not proud to say that we killed him there They brought him from the prison hospital and to see him in that chair I swear his smile would, would far more quickly call a man to prayer.
Maybe, maybe I don't understand this thing that makes these rebels die Yet all men love freedom and the spring clear in the sky
I wouldn't do this deed again for all that I hold by As I gazed down my rifle at his breast but then, then a soldier I. They say he was different, kindly too apart from all the rest. A lover of the poor-his wounds ill dressed. He faced us like a man who knew a greater pain Than blows or bullets ere the world began: died he in vain Ready, Present, and him just smiling,
Christ I felt my rifle shake His wounds all open and around his chair a pool of blood And I swear his lips said, "fire" before my rifle shot that cursed lead And I, I was picked to kill a man like that, James Connolly.
James Connolly photo
James Connolly tenor guitar / mandola tab tuning CGDA
Some songs follow from The James Connolly Songbook. Most were written by him.
THE WATCHWORD.
"Take and Hold."
O, hear ye the watchword of Labor.
The slogan of they who'd be free,
That no more to any enslaver
Must Labor bend appliant knee.
That we on whose shoulders are borne
The pomp and the pride of the great,
Whose tail they repaid with their scorn,
Should meet it at last with our hate.
Chorus.
Then send it afar on the breeze, boys,
That watchword, the grandest we've known,
That Labor must rise from its knees,
boys, And take the broad earth as its own.
Aye, we who oft won by our valor,
Empire for our rulers and lords,
Yet reelt in abasement and squalor
To that we had made by our swords.
New valor with worth will be blending,
When, answering Labor's command.
We arise from the earth and secending
To manhood, for Freedom take stand.
Chorus.
Then out from the Seld and the city.
From workshop, from mill and from mine,
Despising their wrath and their pity,
We workers are moving in line.
To answer the watchword and token
That Labor gives forth as its own.
Nor pause till our fetters we've broken,
And conquered the spoller and drone.
Chorus
JAMES CONNOLLY.
THE RIGHTS OF MAN.
Pros "Paddy's Resources" wing book of the
Irish Revolutionists of 1798.)
Tune My Country Tis of Thee."
God save the rights of man,
Give him a heart to scan.
Blesslags so dear:
Let them be spread around,
Wherever man is found.
And with the welcome sound
Ravish his ear.
See from the universe.
Darkness and clouds disperse;
Mankind, awake.
Reason and truth appear,
Freedom advances near,
Tyrants with terror hear,
See how they quake,
Chorus.
Long have we felt the stroke,
Long have we borne the yoke,
Sluggish and tame,
But a new era shinee,
Enlightening all darkened minds.
Spreading to distant climes,
Liberty's flame.
Let us as men agree,
And bid the world be free,
Leading the way.
Should tyrants all conspire,
Fearless of sword and fire,
Freedom shall ne'er retire,
Freedom shall away.
THE SYMBOL.
Tune-"God Save Ireland."
With the symbol and the sign,
Rank on rank, and line on line,
True Pioneers of Liberty, wo come.
Light for all the blind we hear,
Thunder so the deaf may bear,
And true Pentecostal fires for the dumb,
Chorus.
Forward, to Liberty advancing,
Forward, to Freedom from the thrall,
Come with willing heart and hand,
All who bear a common brand,
With the blood-red flag of Freedom over all.
Upward yet and onward still
To the city on the hill,
No rest we know till Labor has its own,
Till the death knell we have tolled,
Or the clinging curse of gold.
And the might of man o'er man is overthrown.
JOHN LESLIE
THE WATCHWORD.
"Take and Hold."
O, hear ye the watchword of Labor.
The slogan of they who'd be free,
That no more to any enslaver
Must Labor bend appliant knee.
BIDE YOUR TIME.
y M. J. BARRY.
(Prominent in the irish insurivetionary
Movement of 1818)
Bide your time, the morn is breaking
Bright with Froedom's blessed ray,
Millions from their trance awaking.
Soon shall stand in firm array.
Man shall fetter man no longer.
Liberty shall march sublime,
Every moment makes us stronger,
Calm and thoughtful, bide your time.
Bide your time, one falso step taken
Perils all you yet have done,
Undismayed, erect, unshaken,
Watch and wait and all is won,
Tis not by a rash endeaver,
Man can e'er to greatness climb,
Would you win your rights forever?
Firm, unshrinking, bide your time.
Bide your time, your worst transgression
Were to strike and strike in vain,
He whose arm would amite oppression,
Must not need to strike again.
Danger maltes the brave man steady.
Rashness is the coward's crime,
He for Freedom's battle ready,
When it comes, but bide your time,
STANDARD OF FREEDOM.
Unfold, Father Time, thy long records unfold,
Of noble achievements accomplished of old;
When men by the standard of liberty led.
Undauntedly conquered or cheerfully bled.
As spring to the fields, or as dew to the Bower,
To the earth parched with heat, as the soft dropping shower,
As health to the wretch that lies languid and
wall.
Or as rest to the weary-is Freedom to man.
When Freedom, the light of her countenance
rives,
There only he revels, there only be lives,
Seize then the glad moment, and hail the decree
That bida millions rejoice and the nation he free.
IRELAND, 1798.
WHEN LABOR CALLS.
Tune-Transvaal Volkslied or National Anthem."
When Labor calls her children forth
A waiting world to win,
Earth's noblest hreed, true men of worth,
Her ranks shall enter in.
Then, comrades all, prepare that we
May hear that call anon,
And drive the hosts of tyranny
Like clouds before the dawn,
And drive our foes,
And drive our foce,
Our foes like clouds before the dawn.
Then knowest long has Labor groaned,
A robbed and beaten thrall,
Whilst capital on high enthroned
Reigned, Jording over all.
But knowledge came and to the slave
His power at last revealed,
He stands erect, his heart is brave,
The tyrants doom is seated.
His doom is sealed,
His doom is sealed.
Thy tyrant's doom at last is sealed.
We work and wait till womb of
Time Shall give fair Freedom birth,
To Labor's host, that hope sublime,
Regenerates the earth.
And by that hore we tollers fired
To nobler deeds shall be
That we may guide, by it inspired,
Our class to Liberty.
To Liberty,
To Liberty.
To guide our class to Liberty.
JAMES CONNOLLY.
HYMN TO FREEDOM.
Tune "The Holy City."
Here at her altar kneeling,
Sweet Freedom we adore,
And awear to hold her honor
As sacred as of yore.
Did all her holy martyrs,
When, recklng life sa naught,
They went to death to guard the faith
Her lore to man had brought,
THE WATCHWORD.
"Take and Hold."
O, hear ye the watchword of Labor.
The slogan of they who'd be free,
That no more to any enslaver
Must Labor bend appliant knee.
That we on whose shoulders are borne
The pomp and the pride of the great,
Whose tail they repaid with their scorn,
Should meet it at last with our hate.
Chorus.
Then send it afar on the breeze, boys,
That watchword, the grandest we've known,
That Labor must rise from its knees,
boys, And take the broad earth as its own.
Aye, we who oft won by our valor,
Empire for our rulers and lords,
Yet reelt in abasement and squalor
To that we had made by our swords.
New valor with worth will be blending,
When, answering Labor's command.
We arise from the earth and secending
To manhood, for Freedom take stand.
Chorus.
Then out from the Seld and the city.
From workshop, from mill and from mine,
Despising their wrath and their pity,
We workers are moving in line.
To answer the watchword and token
That Labor gives forth as its own.
Nor pause till our fetters we've broken,
And conquered the spoller and drone.
Chorus
JAMES CONNOLLY.
THE RIGHTS OF MAN.
Pros "Paddy's Resources" wing book of the
Irish Revolutionists of 1798.)
Tune My Country Tis of Thee."
God save the rights of man,
Give him a heart to scan.
Blesslags so dear:
Let them be spread around,
Wherever man is found.
And with the welcome sound
Ravish his ear.
See from the universe.
Darkness and clouds disperse;
Mankind, awake.
Reason and truth appear,
Freedom advances near,
Tyrants with terror hear,
See how they quake,
Chorus.
Long have we felt the stroke,
Long have we borne the yoke,
Sluggish and tame,
But a new era shinee,
Enlightening all darkened minds.
Spreading to distant climes,
Liberty's flame.
Let us as men agree,
And bid the world be free,
Leading the way.
Should tyrants all conspire,
Fearless of sword and fire,
Freedom shall ne'er retire,
Freedom shall away.
THE SYMBOL.
Tune-"God Save Ireland."
With the symbol and the sign,
Rank on rank, and line on line,
True Pioneers of Liberty, wo come.
Light for all the blind we hear,
Thunder so the deaf may bear,
And true Pentecostal fires for the dumb,
Chorus.
Forward, to Liberty advancing,
Forward, to Freedom from the thrall,
Come with willing heart and hand,
All who bear a common brand,
With the blood-red flag of Freedom over all.
Upward yet and onward still
To the city on the hill,
No rest we know till Labor has its own,
Till the death knell we have tolled,
Or the clinging curse of gold.
And the might of man o'er man is overthrown.
JOHN LESLIE
THE WATCHWORD.
"Take and Hold."
O, hear ye the watchword of Labor.
The slogan of they who'd be free,
That no more to any enslaver
Must Labor bend appliant knee.
BIDE YOUR TIME.
y M. J. BARRY.
(Prominent in the irish insurivetionary
Movement of 1818)
Bide your time, the morn is breaking
Bright with Froedom's blessed ray,
Millions from their trance awaking.
Soon shall stand in firm array.
Man shall fetter man no longer.
Liberty shall march sublime,
Every moment makes us stronger,
Calm and thoughtful, bide your time.
Bide your time, one falso step taken
Perils all you yet have done,
Undismayed, erect, unshaken,
Watch and wait and all is won,
Tis not by a rash endeaver,
Man can e'er to greatness climb,
Would you win your rights forever?
Firm, unshrinking, bide your time.
Bide your time, your worst transgression
Were to strike and strike in vain,
He whose arm would amite oppression,
Must not need to strike again.
Danger maltes the brave man steady.
Rashness is the coward's crime,
He for Freedom's battle ready,
When it comes, but bide your time,
STANDARD OF FREEDOM.
Unfold, Father Time, thy long records unfold,
Of noble achievements accomplished of old;
When men by the standard of liberty led.
Undauntedly conquered or cheerfully bled.
As spring to the fields, or as dew to the Bower,
To the earth parched with heat, as the soft dropping shower,
As health to the wretch that lies languid and
wall.
Or as rest to the weary-is Freedom to man.
When Freedom, the light of her countenance
rives,
There only he revels, there only be lives,
Seize then the glad moment, and hail the decree
That bida millions rejoice and the nation he free.
IRELAND, 1798.
WHEN LABOR CALLS.
Tune-Transvaal Volkslied or National Anthem."
When Labor calls her children forth
A waiting world to win,
Earth's noblest hreed, true men of worth,
Her ranks shall enter in.
Then, comrades all, prepare that we
May hear that call anon,
And drive the hosts of tyranny
Like clouds before the dawn,
And drive our foes,
And drive our foce,
Our foes like clouds before the dawn.
Then knowest long has Labor groaned,
A robbed and beaten thrall,
Whilst capital on high enthroned
Reigned, Jording over all.
But knowledge came and to the slave
His power at last revealed,
He stands erect, his heart is brave,
The tyrants doom is seated.
His doom is sealed,
His doom is sealed.
Thy tyrant's doom at last is sealed.
We work and wait till womb of
Time Shall give fair Freedom birth,
To Labor's host, that hope sublime,
Regenerates the earth.
And by that hore we tollers fired
To nobler deeds shall be
That we may guide, by it inspired,
Our class to Liberty.
To Liberty,
To Liberty.
To guide our class to Liberty.
JAMES CONNOLLY.
HYMN TO FREEDOM.
Tune "The Holy City."
Here at her altar kneeling,
Sweet Freedom we adore,
And awear to hold her honor
As sacred as of yore.
Did all her holy martyrs,
When, recklng life sa naught,
They went to death to guard the faith
Her lore to man had brought,
THE WATCHWORD.
"Take and Hold."
O, hear ye the watchword of Labor.
The slogan of they who'd be free,
That no more to any enslaver
Must Labor bend appliant knee.
BIDE YOUR TIME.
y M. J. BARRY.
(Prominent in the irish insuretionary Move- ment of 1848.)
Bide your time, the morn is healin Chorus
O, Freedom, O, Freedom, Thy worshippers are we Here,
kneeling, our allegiance, We render unto thee,
And as our fathers prayed to se The glories of her face,
We, kneeling at bez altar, Beseech her langed-for grace,
She needs no gory sacrifice, Laid on her altar stones,
Our pilgrimage of poverty For all our faults atones.
She comes not clothed in majesty. No terrors in her tone,
Her priesthood Is of Labor, Her service is our own.
To toil, and pain, and penury. Wherever manhood dwells,
She speaks, and lo, responsive. The heart of Labor swells,
She bullds her altar in our hearts, Her ritual on our lives,
And they who yield her service
Need not the grace that ahtves,
JAMES CONNOLLY.
FREEDOM'S PIONEERS. Air-"Boys of Wexford."
Our feet upon the upward path
Are set, where none may tread
Save those who to the rich man's
wrath Dare turn rebellious head,
And hearts as brave; no cringing
slave In all our rank appears;
Our proudest boast, in Labour's
host, We're Freedom's Pioneers.
CHORUS
O, slaves may beg, and cowards whine;
We scorn their foolish fears.
We dare and plan to lead the van,
With Freedom's Pioneers.
Too long upon our toll were built
The palaces of power,
When at our word those forts of guilt
Would crumble in an hour:
Now each day brings on swiftest winge
To their unwilling ears,
The shouts that greet our marching feet,
"Tis Freedom's Pioneers."
The rich man's hate, the rich man's pride
Hath held us long in awe,
Our Right to Life is still dented,
And wealth still rules the law.
But man shall bow no longer now,
But welcomes with his cheers
The ringing stroke to break his
yoke Of Freedom's Pioneers.
(Chorns.)
JAMES CONNOLLY
DRINKING AND THINKING.
(The Irish words "Cruisin lan" siguity in Eac ilsh,
Pali Pitcher, and are preavanced an written in the more
commonly known vulized English version to the same tune.-B1) Air-"Cruiskeen Lawn."
Let the farmers praise their grounds,
And sportsmen praise their hounds,
And shepherds their dew-scented lawn,
But we, more blithe than they,
Spend each happy night and day,
O'er our smiling little Craisein Lan
Let doctors praise their health.
And nears prafee their wealth,
Repent, cries the prelate to lawn,
But if the whole were hanged.
We'll not part while we can stand.
From our smiling little Crulsen Lan.
The mighty Thomas Paine,
Who Freedom did maintain
With energy of reason and of sense,
Was as stupid as an ass,
Till first he took a glass.
Then truth sprang from his Cruisein Lan.
The patriotie French
Before they advanced an inch
Against the detested Tastile,
Had led each cup and can
To the glerious rights of man,
And they quafed them off in Cruisein Lan.
Then all your glasses high,
Let's not part with lips so dry.
Though the tark should proclaim the new dawn.
Since here we can't remain,
May we shortly meet again
To take another Cruiscin Lan.
IRELAND, 1798.
A LOVE SONG.
Tune "Believe Me If All Those Endearing Young Charms."
I love you, I love you, tho' toll may obscure
And make darker the light of my eye,
Tho' slow rans my blood, and my heart. If ea pure,
Beats calmer when women are wich:
Yet out from my heart contes a passionate wail.
With a note of sincerity trac
The protest of that heart, tho' its vigor may fail,
Yet beats stronger its love, dear, for you,
I love you. I love you, no swain to his dear,
Nor mother to first fruit of her womb,
Nor thinker to truths ho has garnered in tears
From the deserts which hid them in gloom.
Hath love more devoted, more unfailing than he.
Now laying this poor wreath at thy shrin
In the hope that accepted that offering will be,
And remembered when victory is thine.
Yes, Freedom, I love you, my soul thou hast Sred
With the fame that redeems from the clay,
Thou hast given to me, as to Moses Inspired.
A glimpse of that land bright as day,
Whither Labor must journey, tho each fool of the road
Sweated blood from the graves of its best,
Where, beilt upon justice and truth, the abode
Thon preparest awalts the opprest
JAMES CONNOLLY
THE RED FLAG.
By James Connell, an Irish writer,
long prum- ent in the Becialist movement of England)
Tune The White Cockade" or "Tannenbaum."
The people's flag is deepest red,
It shouded aft our martyred dead,
And e'er their limbs grew stiff and cold
Their hearts' blood dyed its every fold.
Chorus.
Then raise the scarlet standard high,
Beneath its folds we'll live and die,
The cowards flinch and traitors sneer,
We'll keep the red flag flying here.
Look round, the Frenchman loves its blaze,
The sturdy German chants Its praise,
In Moscow's vaults its hymns are sung.
Chicago swells its surging song.
It waved above our infant might.
When all ahead seemed dark as night,
It witnessed many a deed and vow;
We will not change its colors now.
With heads uncovered swear we all
To bear it onward till we fall,
Come dungeons dark or gallows grim,
This song shall be our parting hymn.
It suits to-day the meek and base,
Whose minds are fixed on pell and place,
To cringe beneath the rich man's frown,
And haul that sacred emblem down.
FOR LABOR'S RIGHT.
Translation of the famous revolutionary song
"Anf Social item" incheirus by the German Socialists
at the close of the Stuttgart Congre
Up, brothers, up the drams are beating.
And see on high the banners wave,
Close up our ranks, let no retreating
Be ours whilst earth contains a slave.
"Till all alike our triumph won
Shall know the splendor of the sun,
And drink of wisdom's holiest spring.
This is the prize our armies bring.
CHORUS.
A boly war for Labor's right,
A holy war for Labor's right;
For Labor's cause,
For Labor's cause Shall win the fight.
O, brothers, ye whose his uncounted
Must toil to win a scanty wage,
Whose backs were bent that robbers,
mounted, Might ride thercon from age to age.
No longer now in thraldom grown,
Your strong right hand must take your own
And by that act to manhood spring
Such is the prize our armies bring.
CHORUS.
The tyrants hope a conquering sword
Will stem the onward march of right,
But Truth o'er all their barbarous borde Leads
Freedom's host to Freedom's height.
To break the sword of war and pain
That peace and joy o'er earth may reign
And conquering hosts of Labor sing
This is the prize onr armies bring.
JAMES CONNOLLY,
LIFT THE FLAG.
Tune "The Lagucy"
Tift that flag and tenderly guard it.
Guard it as lover would guard his love,
Ours be the shame if ought debarred it
Preely floating our ranks above, Grasp that flag,
and proudly daring All that the tyrant can do or essay,
Strike, and the fetters they long are wearing
From the limbs of Labor shall fall away.
Hail that flag, my brothers, 'tis ours,
Ours the life-blood that gave it its hue,
For us it waved thro' darkest hours
Waiting till Labor its destiny knew.
See that flag, now floating on high,
Free as the engle flies to the sun
Token and sign tho' men may die
The cause persists whilst blood doth run.
Pledge that flag; my brothers, your glasses
Never were drained to a holier toast;
Never shall Time reveal as it passes
A grander mission than Labor can boast,
Fill up your glass! no stinted measure
Shall serve to pledge this day with me,
The Cause we love, the Hope we treasure
The Flag that beckons to Liberty.
JAMES CONNOLLY,
FREEDOM'S SUN.
Air-"Love's Young Dream."
Yes, Freedom's song, by workers sung.
Kings loud and clear,
O'er every land, in every tongue,
After, anear;
Time passes by Old systems die-
Oppression's course outrun. But Barth,
rejoiced, salutes the light Of Freedom's sun:
0, redialing Earth salutes the light Of Freedom's son.
Yes, all men then their lives may live,
From grim want free,
And all the joys that life can give,
Their lot shall be: And care shall fly.
And sea and Acclaim the work well done.
When earth, rejoiced, salutes the light
Or Freedom's sun:
O, rejoicing Earth salutes the
light O: Freedom's sun.
No longer now revolt need hide in holes and caves,
While they who brave Oppression's pride,
But find their graves.
No tyrant's ban Can now make man
The truths of knowledge shun;
All Earth, rejoiced,
salutes the light Of Freedom's sun;
O. rejoicing Earth salutes the light Of Freedom's sun.
Our fathers saw the master's sword
His plunder glean,
But specious fraud and lying word
Hie thefts now screen; Yet frand shall fail
And truth prevail.
And justice shall be done.
When Earth, refaced, salutes the light Of Freedom's sun;
O, rejoicing Earth salutes the light Of Freedom's sun.
JAMES CONNOLLY.
"Take and Hold."
O, hear ye the watchword of Labor.
The slogan of they who'd be free,
That no more to any enslaver
Must Labor bend appliant knee.
BIDE YOUR TIME.
y M. J. BARRY.
(Prominent in the irish insuretionary Move- ment of 1848.)
Bide your time, the morn is healin Chorus
O, Freedom, O, Freedom, Thy worshippers are we Here,
kneeling, our allegiance, We render unto thee,
And as our fathers prayed to se The glories of her face,
We, kneeling at bez altar, Beseech her langed-for grace,
She needs no gory sacrifice, Laid on her altar stones,
Our pilgrimage of poverty For all our faults atones.
She comes not clothed in majesty. No terrors in her tone,
Her priesthood Is of Labor, Her service is our own.
To toil, and pain, and penury. Wherever manhood dwells,
She speaks, and lo, responsive. The heart of Labor swells,
She bullds her altar in our hearts, Her ritual on our lives,
And they who yield her service
Need not the grace that ahtves,
JAMES CONNOLLY.
FREEDOM'S PIONEERS. Air-"Boys of Wexford."
Our feet upon the upward path
Are set, where none may tread
Save those who to the rich man's
wrath Dare turn rebellious head,
And hearts as brave; no cringing
slave In all our rank appears;
Our proudest boast, in Labour's
host, We're Freedom's Pioneers.
CHORUS
O, slaves may beg, and cowards whine;
We scorn their foolish fears.
We dare and plan to lead the van,
With Freedom's Pioneers.
Too long upon our toll were built
The palaces of power,
When at our word those forts of guilt
Would crumble in an hour:
Now each day brings on swiftest winge
To their unwilling ears,
The shouts that greet our marching feet,
"Tis Freedom's Pioneers."
The rich man's hate, the rich man's pride
Hath held us long in awe,
Our Right to Life is still dented,
And wealth still rules the law.
But man shall bow no longer now,
But welcomes with his cheers
The ringing stroke to break his
yoke Of Freedom's Pioneers.
(Chorns.)
JAMES CONNOLLY
DRINKING AND THINKING.
(The Irish words "Cruisin lan" siguity in Eac ilsh,
Pali Pitcher, and are preavanced an written in the more
commonly known vulized English version to the same tune.-B1) Air-"Cruiskeen Lawn."
Let the farmers praise their grounds,
And sportsmen praise their hounds,
And shepherds their dew-scented lawn,
But we, more blithe than they,
Spend each happy night and day,
O'er our smiling little Craisein Lan
Let doctors praise their health.
And nears prafee their wealth,
Repent, cries the prelate to lawn,
But if the whole were hanged.
We'll not part while we can stand.
From our smiling little Crulsen Lan.
The mighty Thomas Paine,
Who Freedom did maintain
With energy of reason and of sense,
Was as stupid as an ass,
Till first he took a glass.
Then truth sprang from his Cruisein Lan.
The patriotie French
Before they advanced an inch
Against the detested Tastile,
Had led each cup and can
To the glerious rights of man,
And they quafed them off in Cruisein Lan.
Then all your glasses high,
Let's not part with lips so dry.
Though the tark should proclaim the new dawn.
Since here we can't remain,
May we shortly meet again
To take another Cruiscin Lan.
IRELAND, 1798.
A LOVE SONG.
Tune "Believe Me If All Those Endearing Young Charms."
I love you, I love you, tho' toll may obscure
And make darker the light of my eye,
Tho' slow rans my blood, and my heart. If ea pure,
Beats calmer when women are wich:
Yet out from my heart contes a passionate wail.
With a note of sincerity trac
The protest of that heart, tho' its vigor may fail,
Yet beats stronger its love, dear, for you,
I love you. I love you, no swain to his dear,
Nor mother to first fruit of her womb,
Nor thinker to truths ho has garnered in tears
From the deserts which hid them in gloom.
Hath love more devoted, more unfailing than he.
Now laying this poor wreath at thy shrin
In the hope that accepted that offering will be,
And remembered when victory is thine.
Yes, Freedom, I love you, my soul thou hast Sred
With the fame that redeems from the clay,
Thou hast given to me, as to Moses Inspired.
A glimpse of that land bright as day,
Whither Labor must journey, tho each fool of the road
Sweated blood from the graves of its best,
Where, beilt upon justice and truth, the abode
Thon preparest awalts the opprest
JAMES CONNOLLY
THE RED FLAG.
By James Connell, an Irish writer,
long prum- ent in the Becialist movement of England)
Tune The White Cockade" or "Tannenbaum."
The people's flag is deepest red,
It shouded aft our martyred dead,
And e'er their limbs grew stiff and cold
Their hearts' blood dyed its every fold.
Chorus.
Then raise the scarlet standard high,
Beneath its folds we'll live and die,
The cowards flinch and traitors sneer,
We'll keep the red flag flying here.
Look round, the Frenchman loves its blaze,
The sturdy German chants Its praise,
In Moscow's vaults its hymns are sung.
Chicago swells its surging song.
It waved above our infant might.
When all ahead seemed dark as night,
It witnessed many a deed and vow;
We will not change its colors now.
With heads uncovered swear we all
To bear it onward till we fall,
Come dungeons dark or gallows grim,
This song shall be our parting hymn.
It suits to-day the meek and base,
Whose minds are fixed on pell and place,
To cringe beneath the rich man's frown,
And haul that sacred emblem down.
FOR LABOR'S RIGHT.
Translation of the famous revolutionary song
"Anf Social item" incheirus by the German Socialists
at the close of the Stuttgart Congre
Up, brothers, up the drams are beating.
And see on high the banners wave,
Close up our ranks, let no retreating
Be ours whilst earth contains a slave.
"Till all alike our triumph won
Shall know the splendor of the sun,
And drink of wisdom's holiest spring.
This is the prize our armies bring.
CHORUS.
A boly war for Labor's right,
A holy war for Labor's right;
For Labor's cause,
For Labor's cause Shall win the fight.
O, brothers, ye whose his uncounted
Must toil to win a scanty wage,
Whose backs were bent that robbers,
mounted, Might ride thercon from age to age.
No longer now in thraldom grown,
Your strong right hand must take your own
And by that act to manhood spring
Such is the prize our armies bring.
CHORUS.
The tyrants hope a conquering sword
Will stem the onward march of right,
But Truth o'er all their barbarous borde Leads
Freedom's host to Freedom's height.
To break the sword of war and pain
That peace and joy o'er earth may reign
And conquering hosts of Labor sing
This is the prize onr armies bring.
JAMES CONNOLLY,
LIFT THE FLAG.
Tune "The Lagucy"
Tift that flag and tenderly guard it.
Guard it as lover would guard his love,
Ours be the shame if ought debarred it
Preely floating our ranks above, Grasp that flag,
and proudly daring All that the tyrant can do or essay,
Strike, and the fetters they long are wearing
From the limbs of Labor shall fall away.
Hail that flag, my brothers, 'tis ours,
Ours the life-blood that gave it its hue,
For us it waved thro' darkest hours
Waiting till Labor its destiny knew.
See that flag, now floating on high,
Free as the engle flies to the sun
Token and sign tho' men may die
The cause persists whilst blood doth run.
Pledge that flag; my brothers, your glasses
Never were drained to a holier toast;
Never shall Time reveal as it passes
A grander mission than Labor can boast,
Fill up your glass! no stinted measure
Shall serve to pledge this day with me,
The Cause we love, the Hope we treasure
The Flag that beckons to Liberty.
JAMES CONNOLLY,
FREEDOM'S SUN.
Air-"Love's Young Dream."
Yes, Freedom's song, by workers sung.
Kings loud and clear,
O'er every land, in every tongue,
After, anear;
Time passes by Old systems die-
Oppression's course outrun. But Barth,
rejoiced, salutes the light Of Freedom's sun:
0, redialing Earth salutes the light Of Freedom's son.
Yes, all men then their lives may live,
From grim want free,
And all the joys that life can give,
Their lot shall be: And care shall fly.
And sea and Acclaim the work well done.
When earth, rejoiced, salutes the light
Or Freedom's sun:
O, rejoicing Earth salutes the
light O: Freedom's sun.
No longer now revolt need hide in holes and caves,
While they who brave Oppression's pride,
But find their graves.
No tyrant's ban Can now make man
The truths of knowledge shun;
All Earth, rejoiced,
salutes the light Of Freedom's sun;
O. rejoicing Earth salutes the light Of Freedom's sun.
Our fathers saw the master's sword
His plunder glean,
But specious fraud and lying word
Hie thefts now screen; Yet frand shall fail
And truth prevail.
And justice shall be done.
When Earth, refaced, salutes the light Of Freedom's sun;
O, rejoicing Earth salutes the light Of Freedom's sun.
JAMES CONNOLLY.
SIDE-BY-SIDE
Lyrics by R.F. Hamre
(This melody is adapted from the traditional song, “The Leaving Of Liverpool”.)
Let us [D]stand to[G]gether side-by-side as we [D]march,
Let us stand to[G]gether all the [A7]way.
We are [D]Irish [G]Volunteers who march through the [D]night,
And we march side-by-[A7]side throughout the [D]day.
We will [A7]stand as one, till the [G]march is [D]done,
And we’ll always be to[A7]gether side-by-[D]side.
If you see us know that we are [G]Irish[D]men,
And we’ll march side-by-[A7]side until the [D]end.
Let us stand together side-by-side as we fight,
Let us stand together all the way.
We are Irish Volunteers who fight through the night,
And we fight side-by-side throughout the day.
We will stand as one, till the fight is done,
And we’ll always be together side-by-side.
If you see us know that we are Irishmen,
And we’ll fight side by side until the end.
Let us stand together side-by-side as we die,
Let us stand together all the way.
If as Irish Volunteers we’re killed here tonight,
Say we fought side-by-side throughout this day.
Should God’s will be done, and we die as one,
Have them lay us all together side-by-side.
Let our headstones show that we were Irishmen,
And we fought side-by-side until the end.
Lyrics by R.F. Hamre
(This melody is adapted from the traditional song, “The Leaving Of Liverpool”.)
Let us [D]stand to[G]gether side-by-side as we [D]march,
Let us stand to[G]gether all the [A7]way.
We are [D]Irish [G]Volunteers who march through the [D]night,
And we march side-by-[A7]side throughout the [D]day.
We will [A7]stand as one, till the [G]march is [D]done,
And we’ll always be to[A7]gether side-by-[D]side.
If you see us know that we are [G]Irish[D]men,
And we’ll march side-by-[A7]side until the [D]end.
Let us stand together side-by-side as we fight,
Let us stand together all the way.
We are Irish Volunteers who fight through the night,
And we fight side-by-side throughout the day.
We will stand as one, till the fight is done,
And we’ll always be together side-by-side.
If you see us know that we are Irishmen,
And we’ll fight side by side until the end.
Let us stand together side-by-side as we die,
Let us stand together all the way.
If as Irish Volunteers we’re killed here tonight,
Say we fought side-by-side throughout this day.
Should God’s will be done, and we die as one,
Have them lay us all together side-by-side.
Let our headstones show that we were Irishmen,
And we fought side-by-side until the end.
Sheet music for side by side
