Who are these men?
What are they to me,
These dead men
From a land across the sea?
They dared against the British Raj
To raise their hand.
If my own countrymen decreed their death
Why should I take a stand?
But
The British Ruling Class
That these men defied
Plundered with sword and gun and sly intrigue.
Their modern spawn
Smile with imperialist pride
And, guns behind their backs
And lackeys in their league,
Plunder away still more
And keep the plundered poor.
That Class,
Born in my land of birth,
Are not my kith and kin!
My eyes must not be dazzled
By shared whiteness of their skin!
For the great imperial heel,
That straddles o’er the globe
And tramples the oppressed of foreign lands,
Takes balance from the other boot we feel.
On both its feet imperialism stands.
Small comfort that we bear not all the weight,
And that the heel grinds harder across the sea,
For the lightest boot is heavy,
And the prize of freedom great.
So we must see imperialism fall.
The British working class must take its stand
And recognise its common cause with all
Who take the sword of freedom in their hand.
On! Onward then with revolution’s tide,
And, though each stage befits its time and place,
Who fights our foe is fighting by our side,
It matters not their colour or their race.
Such men were Udham Singh and Bhagat Singh,
Martyrs not just of India’s freedom fight
But Heroes of all workers and oppressed.
So let their names unite us in our might
As, thinking not in terms of black or white
But “who is enemy and who is friend?”,
We struggle to achieve our common end.
Death to imperialism! is our cry.
It is our common banner,
Raise it high!
Godfrey Cremer
