The Labour Agitator

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LET the liar call me liar,
  And the robber call me thief.
They can only fan the fire
  That is born of my belief.
While I’m speaking, while I’m writing,
  To reform the wrongful laws,
Well I know that I am fighting
  For the grand old Cause.


  See the army of the rebels
  Marching on for evermore.
  We are countless as the pebbles
  That are strewn along the shore.
  Agitating, agitating,
  Till the Truth has sealed the fate
  Of the wrongs that I am hating
  With the grand old Hate.


Though no battle banner rustles
  In a smoke that blurs the blue,
As when “heroes” poured from Brussels
  To the field of Waterloo,
Though we do not hear the rattle
  Of the rifles in the wars,
There is glory in the battle
  For the grand old Cause.

  See the army of the rebels
  Marching on for evermore.
  We are countless as the pebbles
  That are strewn along the shore.
  Agitating, agitating,
  Till the Truth has sealed the fate
  Of the wrongs that I am hating
  With the grand old Hate.

No! I look not to the reaping
  In the dynasty of men,
For I know that I’ll be sleeping
  In a slandered grave e’er then.
Till his right to man is given
  We’ll rebel, and we’ll rebel
As we would rebel in heaven
  If it proved a hell.

  See the army of the rebels
  Marching on for evermore.
  We are countless as the pebbles
  That are strewn along the shore.
  Agitating, agitating,
  Till the Truth has sealed the fate
  Of the wrongs that I am hating
  With the grand old Hate.

No! There’s neither creed nor nation
  Where the Labour flag’s unfurled,
For the Labour agitation
  Breaks the barriers of the world.
Let the rulers fly in terror
  With their scornful lips uncurled,
One by one the gods of error
  From their thrones are hurled.

  See the army of the rebels
  Marching on for evermore.
  We are countless as the pebbles
  That are strewn along the shore.
  Agitating, agitating,
  Till the Truth has sealed the fate
  Of the wrongs that I am hating
  With the grand old Hate.

© Henry Lawson