The Poetry Corner

The Labour Agitator

By Henry Lawson

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 Im speaking, while Im 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 Ill be sleeping In a slandered grave eer then. Till his right to man is given Well rebel, and well 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! Theres neither creed nor nation Where the Labour flags 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.