Thurland Press

The Robbers of Today

In the time of Rome Imperator—in the age of Charlemagne,
In the days of Hun and Vandal, and the swoop of Tamerlane—
Men risked their bones for booty in the battle's bloody fray;
Not so the chartered robbers who rob the world today.

The miner pays them tribute, and the farmer's "home" is theirs;
They coin OUR coal and iron and OUR silver into "shares."
The wool fleets northward sailing—the wine and grain and hay,
Belong, without exception, to the robbers of today.

The widow, starving slowly, and the child that feeds on crusts,
Are melted down to dividends by vast financial trusts.
O, cruel were Pizarro's hordes who marched to loot and slay;
More ruthless far the mortgage wolves—the robbers of today.

Their stronghold's in the city's heart (no "castles by the Rhine");
Their throne's a marble counting house—where brassy doorplates shine;
Their swords are acts of Congress and Judges in array—
O, mighty are the mortgage kings, that rule the world today!

When the kindly Roman emperor imagined that peace had settled down permanently upon the ancient world, even then the (dissimulating) assassin's dagger was sharpening for his throat; and now while lower organisms dream of a "world of lovers," of arbitration instead of hostility, of conciliation between rival carnivores, the mechanism of deletion is silently under construction; that, when completed, will sweep them from the face of the earth.

"Good blade! Mighty overcomer! Trusty friend! I salute thee! Verily thou are my saviour, my deliverer, my Iron Redeemer! Glorious steel, ruler of earth and ocean, thou wast never a backbiter yet! In the hour of need thou didst not desert me!"

What gods hast thou, that bow before the might of mortal men?
Surrendered now in ignorance; enslaved before the pen
Of magistrates and potentates less powerful than thee—
What makers vested strength within the legs that bend the knee?
What then of their countenance, their handiwork to see?
Cry out! Cry out unto them and witness unto me!

What chains and shackles hobble thee, what burden giveth pause?
What fearsome power maketh thee unworthy of thy cause?
What of the faith and principles thou surely must despise,
To supplicate in deference before a throne of lies?

Count for me the years before the soul of freedom dies.
Art thou now a servant and a slave in thine own eyes?
What fools are we, who in false grace before accusers bowed
And in our hubris and our haste their tyranny allowed.

Free America

That seat of science Athens,
And earth's proud mistress, Rome,
Where now are all their glories
We scarce can find a tomb.
Then guard your rights, Americans,
Nor stoop to falsehood sway,
Oppose, oppose, oppose, oppose
For North America.

Proud Albion bow'd to Caesar,
And numerous lords before,
To Picts, to Danes, to Normans,
And many masters more;
But we can boast Americans
Have never fall'n a prey,
Huzza, huzza, huzza, huzza
For Free America.

We led fair Freedom hither,
And lo, the desert smiled,
A paradise of pleasure
New opened in the wild;
Your harvest, bold Americans,
No power shall snatch away,
Preserve, preserve, preserve your rights
In Free America.

Torn from a world of tyrants
Beneath this western sky
We formed a new dominion,
A land of liberty;
The world shall own we're freemen here,
And such will ever be,
Huzza, huzza, huzza, huzza
For love and liberty.

God bless this maiden climate,
And through her vast domain
May hosts of heroes cluster
That scorn to wear a chain.
And blast the venal sycophants
Who dare our rights betray;
Assert yourselves, yourselves, yourselves
For brave America,

Lift up your hearts, my heroes,
And swear with proud disdain,
The wretch that would ensnare you
Shall spread his net in vain;
Should Europe empty all her force,
We'd meet them in array,
And shout huzza, huzza, huzza
For brave America.

The land where freedom reigns shall still
Be masters of the main,
In giving laws and freedom
To subject France and Spain;
And all the isles o'er ocean spread
Shall tremble and obey,
The prince who rules by Freedom's laws
In North America.