Arise ye workers from your slumbers! Arise ye prisoners of want! For reason in revolt now thunders And at last ends the age of cant. Now away with all superstitions. Servile masses arise! Arise! We’ll change henceforth the old conditions And spurn the dust to win the prize! Then comrades come rally and the last fight let us face! The International unites the human race! No saviour from on high deliver. No trust have we in prince or peer! Our own right hands the chains must shiver; Chains of hatred, greed and fear. Ere the thieves will out with their booty And to all give a happier lot, Each at the forge must do their duty And strike the iron while it’s hot!

Kulilaya! Ngura nganampa manta wiru! Nganampa tjamuku kamiku ngura iritinguru. Kulilaya! Manta milmilpatjara tjukurrpa alatjitu Nyaku nyurra kulintjawiya? Translation: Listen to us! Our country is very beautiful. It is our grandfathers’ and grandmothers’ country from a long time ago. Listen to us! This is the sacred land of the dreamtime. Why do you never understand? ... There were additional words spoken, in both Pitjantjatjara and English, during the Ernabella choir’s first performance of the song in 1985. Only the English version of this additional text is given in our performances, but both are given below. Ngayalu alatji rawa wankapayi Nganampa manta mantjintjawayia Nganana iluntjakutawara I always talk like this Don’t take our country or we will die! Yaltji yaltji ngayurutjamu Dollartjara buyamellalpayi? How can you buy my grandfather?

One Sunday morning as I went walking By Brisbane Waters I chanced to stray. I heard a convict his fate bewailing As on the sunny riverbank he lay. “I am a native of Erin’s island And banished now from my native shore. They tore me from my agéd parents And from the maiden whom I do adore. I’ve been a prisoner at Port Macquarie, At Norfolk Island and Emu Plains, At Castle Hill and at cursed Toongabbie: At all those settlements I’ve worked in chains. But of all places of condemnation And penal stations of New South Wales, To Moreton Bay I have found no equal Excessive tyranny each day prevails. For three long years I was beastly treated, And heavy irons on my legs I wore. My back with flogging has been lacerated And often painted with my crimson gore. And many a prisoner from downright starvation Lies mouldering now underneath the clay. And Captain Logan he had us mangled At the triangles of Moreton Bay. Like the Egyptians and ancient Hebrews We were oppressed under Logan’s yoke ‘Til a native black lying there in ambush Did give our tyrant his mortal stroke! My fellow prisoners, be exhilarated That all such monsters such a death may find! And when from bondage we are liberated Our former suffering shall fade from mind.

The price of wool was falling in 1891. The men who owned the acres saw something must be done. “We’ll break the shearers’ union and show we’re masters still, And they’ll take the terms we give them or we’ll find the men who will!” From Claremont to Barcaldine the shearers’ camps were full. Ten thousand blades were ready to strip the greasy wool, When through the west, like thunder, rang out the union’s call: “The sheds ‘ll be shore union or they won’t be shore at all!” Billy Lane was with them, his words were like a flame. The flag of blue above them, they spoke Eureka’s name. “Tomorrow,” said the squatters, “you’ll find it does not pay. We’re bringing up free labourers to get the clip away.” “Tomorrow,” said the shearers, “they may not be so keen. We can mount three thousand horsemen to show them what we mean!” “Then we’ll pack the west with troopers from Bourke to Charters Towers. You can have your fill of speeches but the final strength is ours!” “Be damned to your six-shooters, your troopers and police! The sheep are growing heavy. The burr is in the fleece.” “Then if Nordenfelt and Gatling won’t bring you to your knees, We’ll find a law,” the squatters said, “that’s made for times like these.” To trial at Rockhampton the fourteen men were brought The judge had got his orders. The squatters owned the court. But for every one was sentenced, a thousand won’t forget: When they jail a man for striking it’s a rich man’s country yet!

This is a rainy land. No thunder in our sky. No trees stretching high. This is a rainy land. My name is Yami Lester. I hear, I speak, I touch, but I am blind. My story comes from darkness. Listen as my story now unwinds. First we heard two big bangs. We thought it was the great snake digging holes. Then we saw the big black cloud, And the big black mist began to roll. A strangeness on our skin, A soreness in our eyes like weeping fire. A pox upon our skin, A boulder on our backs all our lives. My name is Millipuddi. They captured me, and roughly washed me down. Then my child stopped kicking, And they took away my man to town. They said: “Do you speak English?” He said: “I-know-that-Jesus-loves-me-I-know-because-the-bible-tells-me-so.”

Eh! Foho Ramelau, Foho Ramelau eh! Sábé ás liu ó tutun, sábé bein liu ó lolon eh! Tan sá timur ulun sudur uai-uain? Tan sá timur oan ata uai-uain? Tan sá timur oan hakruk bei-beik? Tan sá timur oan atan bei-beik? Loke matan loro foun to’ o iha ó knuak Loke matan loro foun iha ita rain. Hader rai-hun mutin ona lá! Hader loro foun sa’ e ona lá! Hader kaer rasik kuda talin eh! Hader ukun rasik ita rain eh! Translation: Hey, Mount Ramelau! What is higher than your peak? What is greater than your majesty? Why, Timor, is your head forever bowed? Why, Timor, are your children enslaved? Why, Timor, do your children doze like chickens? Why, Timor, do your children doze like slaves? Open your eyes, a new sun is over your village. Open your eyes, a new sun is over your land. Awake! The foot of the mountain is wide. Awake! A new sun has risen. Awake! Take the reigns of your own horse, Awake! Take command of your own land!

Sá sá ha’ a nalo ó batar la fulin, kôlele mai. Sá sá ha’ a nalo ó hare la burit, kôlele mai. Se se ha’ a nalo ó kabun la bosu, kôlele mai. Se se ha’ a nalo ó kosar la maran, kôlele mai. Kolê lele mai rade kokodelê, kôlele mai. Kolê lele mai rade kokodelê, Kôle hele laloi kôlele mai. Balu dehan ó baruk, balu katak ó beik, kôlele mai. Balu raak ó baruk, balu katak ó tiak, kôlele mai. Sá sá sá maka halo, se se se los se, kôlele mai. Sá sá sá maka halo, se se se los se, kôlele mai. Translation: Why does your corn not grow? Why doesn’t your rice sprout? Who causes your empty stomachs? Who causes your never ending sweat? Who is responsible? Who is to blame? Some say it’s because you’re lazy and stupid. Some say it’s because you’re lazy and poor. What is the cause of it? Who is responsible?

Sarang do myonge do Irum do namgimopshi. Hanpyongseng naga jaden Duhgo-un mengse. Dongjinun kande opgo Kitbal man nabukyo. Senari olde gaji Hunduliji malja. Seworun huloka do Sanchonun anda. Ggeo nahso wechinun Duhgo-un hamsong! Apsoso nagani Sanchayo darurah! Apsoso nagani Sanchayo darurah! Translation: Gone; their love, their names, their glory Gone. But we will pledge our lives; Crying aloud in fury Each of us who yet survives! So many comrades perished; Only their flags are stirring now. The new day their hopes had cherished Dawns when we fulfill our vow! Time will pass. We won’t forget! The mountains and rivers know! Vast our battlecry and yet Louder it will grow! Wake! and see the path ahead That our beloved marched upon. They who led the way have gone We the living must go on!

Ye shu wo gao bie, jiang bu zai hui lai. Ni shih fou li jie, ni shih fou ming bai. Ye shu wo dao xia, jiang bu zai chi lai. Ni shi fou hai yao yung jiu di chi dai. Lu guo shi juh yang ni bu yao bei ai, Gung he guo di chi juh shang you Women xue ran di feng tsai. Ye shu ni di yan jing zai bu neng zheng kai. Wo shen shen li jie ni chen mo di ching huai. Ye shu ni dao xia, zai bu nung shing lai. Wo yi ding shiangshin ni hua tsu liao shan mai. Lu guo shi juh yang wo bu hui bei ai. Yin wei women di tu rang li You ni fu chu di ai. Translation: This may be farewell forever. I might never return. I hope you understand why it is that I’ve gone. Maybe I’ll fall in the struggle, never to rise again. I wonder whether you’ll still want to wait for me, without end. If it should turn out that way please feel no lingering sorrow. Sacrificial blood will colour with scarlet our Republic’s flag tomorrow. Yes, it may happen that finally your eyes will forever be closed. I know the sincere and unspoken feelings your honesty chose. And if you fall in the struggle, in earth you’ll forever repose But, like the mountains, to me you will shine with the radiance of snow. If it should turn out that way I will try not to grieve. For the very earth that we stand on is filled with the love that you gave.

Tzuúl Tacá. Dios de los cerros! Tzuúl Tacá. Dios que cuida de la lluvia Y de nuestras sementeras! Aqui esta la gente Kekchi: Llamandote, resandote. Aqui esta tu copal Pom. Tzuúl Tacá, aqui estan las garras del leon, Las garras del tigre tambien, Las plumas del Papagayo. Chíl, chíl chíl chíl, chíl chíl chíl, chíl chíl chíl. Haced que nuestros hombres sean valientes! Que nuestras tierras nunca sean invadidas! Tzuúl, Tzuúl, Tzuúl Tacá Cantemos doncellas del Rabinal! Cantemos doncellas gente de Kekchi! Tzuúl, Tzuúl, Tzuúl Tacá! Translation: Tzuúl Tacá! God of the mountains! Tzuúl Tacá! God who looks after the rain, And our seedbeds. Here are the Kekchi people Calling you, praying to you, Here is your incense. Tzuúl Tacá! here are the claws of the lion! The claws of the tiger as well; The feathers of the parrot. Grant that our men be brave, That our lands never be invaded! Let us sing, young women of Rabinal! Let us sing, young women of the Kekchi people!

“What did I have?” said the fine old woman. “What did I have?” this proud old woman did say. “I had four green fields, each one was a jewel, But strangers came and tried to take them from me. I had fine strong sons. They fought to save my jewels. They fought and died, and that was my grief,” said she. “Long time ago,” said the fine old woman. “Long time ago,” this proud old woman did say. “There was war and death: plundering, and pillage. My children starved by mountain, valley, and sea; And their wailing cries, they shook the very heavens! My four green fields ran red with their blood,” said she. “What have I now?” said the fine old woman. “What have I now?” this proud old woman did say. “I have four green fields, one of them ‘s in bondage: In strangers’ hands, that tried to take it from me. But my sons have sons and daughters filled with courage. My fourth green field shall bloom once again,” said she.

Beir beannacht ó m’ chroi go tír na h-Éireann, Bánchnoic Éireann Ó. Chun a maireann de shíolra Ír agus Éibhir Ar bhánchnoic Éireann Ó. An áit úd inarbh aoibhinn binnghuth éan, Mar shámhchruit chaoin ag caoineadh Gael. Is é mo chás a bheith míle míle i gcéin Ó bhánchnoic Éireann Ó. Bíonn barra bog slím ar chaoinchnoic Éireann. Bánchnoic Éireann Ó. ‘S is fearra na na tír seo díoga gach sléibhe ann, Bánchnoic Éireann Ó. Is ard a coillte ‘s is direach réidh, ‘S an blath mar aoil ar mhaoilinn ghéag. Tá grá i mo chroí ‘s i m’ intinn féin Do bhánchnoic Éireann Ó. Ní fheicim a gcóraid ag gabháil sa taobh seo Ar bhánchnoic Éireann Ó Is ní fheicim a mbólacht á dtreorú chun féir ann Ar bhánchnoic Éireann Ó Ach bárca dá seoladh le forneart gaoth Agus farraigí móra go deo lena dtaobh Go bhfágathar fós mé i m’chóige féin Ar bhánchnoic Éireann Ó Translation: Bear a blessing from my heart to the land of Erin, oh the fair hills of Erin! To those of the seed of Ir and Eibhir who still live on the fair hills of Erin. In that place is the delightful sweet-voiced bird, like a pleasant and gentle harp lamenting a Gael. It is my fate to be a thousand miles away from the fair hills of Erin. Soft and smooth are the summits of Erin’s gentle hills, oh the fair hills of Erin, and better than this land is every mountain slope there in the fair hills of Erin! Her forests are high, they are level and straight, and the blossoms like whitewash on the rounded canopies. Oh, there is such love in my heart and mind for the fair hills of Erin! I don’t see their herds going along this way on the fair hills of Erin. And I don’t see their cattle being guided to graze there, but ships being driven by violent winds with high seas forever at their sides. May I be left in my own province yet on the fair hills of Erin.

When the union’s inspiration through the workers blood shall run There can be no power greater anywhere beneath the sun. Yet what force on earth is weaker than the feeble strength of one? But the union makes us strong! Solidarity forever! Solidarity forever! Solidarity forever! For the union makes us strong! Is there aught we hold in common with the greedy parasite Who would lash us into serfdom and would crush us with his might? Is there anything left for us to do but organise and fight? For the union makes us strong! They have taken untold millions that they never toiled to earn, But without our brain and muscle not a single wheel can turn. We can break their haughty power, gain our freedom, when we learn That the union makes us strong! In our hands is placed a power greater than their hoarded gold, Greater than the might of armies magnified a thousand fold! We can bring to birth a new world from the ashes of the old, For the union makes us strong!

One year, two year, three year, four Comes a khaki gentleman knocking at the door "Any little boys at home? Send them out to me To train them and brain them in battles yet to be" When a little boy is born, feed him train him so Put him in a cattle pen and wait for him to grow When he's nice and plump and dear and sensible and sweet Throw him in the trenches for the great grey rats to eat Toss him in the cannon's mouth, cannons fancy best Tender little boys' flesh that's easy to digest Mother rears her family on two pounds ten a week Teaches them to wash themselves, teaches them to speak Rears them with a heart's love, rears them to be men Grinds her fingers to the bone, and then... what then? But parents who must rear the boys the cannons love to slay Also pay for cannons that blow other boys away Parsons tell them that their sons have just been blown to bits Patriotic parents must all laugh like fits! Rear the boys for honest men and send them out to die. Where's the coward father who would dare raise a cry? Any gentleman's aware folk rear their children for Blunderers and plunderers to mangle in a war! Five year, six year, seven year, eight. Hurry up you little chaps! The captain's at the gate!

As we come marching, marching in the beauty of the day, A million darkened kitchens, a thousand mill-lofts grey Are touched with all the radiance that a sudden sun discloses. For the people here are singing ‘Bread and Roses! Bread and Roses!’ As we come marching, marching we battle too for men For they are in the struggle and together we shall win! Our lives shall not be sweated from birth until life closes Hearts starve as well as bodies, give us bread, but give us roses! As we come marching, marching, unnumbered women dead Go crying through our singing their ancient cry for bread. Small art and love and beauty their drudging spirits knew Yes, it is bread that we fight for, but we fight for roses too! As we come marching, marching we’re standing proud and tall! The rising of the women means the rising of us all. No more the drudge and idler – ten that toil where one reposes But a sharing of life’s glories! ‘Bread and Roses! Bread and Roses!

Shout, shout, up with your song! Cry with the wind for the dawn is breaking; March, march, swing you along, Wide blows our banner, and hope is waking. Song with its story, Dreams with their glory, Lo! they call, and glad is their word! Forward! Hark how it swells, Thunder of freedom, the voice of the Lord! Long, long we in the past Cowered in dread from the light of heaven, Strong, strong, stand we at last, Fearless in faith and with sight new-given. Strength with its beauty, Life with its duty, Hear the voice, oh hear and obey! These, these, beckon us on, Open your eyes to the blaze of day! Comrades, ye who have dared First in the battle to strive and sorrow, Scorned, spurned, nought have ye cared, Raising your eyes to a wider morrow. Ways that are weary, days that are dreary, Toil and pain by faith ye have borne; Hail, hail, victors ye stand, Wearing the wreath that the brave have worn! Life, strife, these two are one, Naught can ye win but by faith and daring; On, on, that ye have done But for the work of today preparing. Firm in reliance, laugh a defiance, Laugh in hope, for sure is the end. March, march, many as one, Shoulder to shoulder and friend to friend!

Sebben che siamo donne, paura non abbiamo, Per amor dei nostri figli, per amor dei nostri figli; Sebben che siamo donne, paura non abbiamo, Per amor dei nostri figli, in lega ci mettiamo! Oh lio lio la, e la lega créscera! E noi altri lavoratori, e noi altri lavoratrici. Oh lio lio la, e la lega créscera! E noi altri lavoratori, vogliam’ la libertà E la libertà non viene perche’ non c’e’ l’unione, Crumiri col padrone, son tutti d’ammazar! Sebben che siamo donne, paura non abbiamo, Abbiam’ delle belle e buone lingue, e ben ci difendiamo! E voi altri signoroni che ci avete tanto orgoglio, Abbassate la superbia, e aprite il portafoglio! Translation: Although we are women we are not afraid. Because we love our children we have joined the union. Oh lio lio la, the union will grow! We workers, we women-workers we want freedom! And if freedom doesn’t come because there’s no union Then the scabs and bosses should all be killed! Although we are women we are not afraid. We have beautiful and good tongues, and how well they defend us! And you masters who have such pride Down with your arrogance, and open your wallets!

Una mattina mi sono alzata, O bella ciao, bella ciao, Bella ciao, ciao, ciao. Una mattina mi sono alzata E ho trovato l’invasor. O partigiano portami via… Che mi sento di morir. E se io muoio da partigiano… Tu mi devi seppellir. E seppellire lassù in montagna… Sotto l’ombra di un bel fior. Tutte le gente che passeranno… Gli diranno: ‘O che bel fior!’ E questo é il fiore del partigiano… Morto per la libertà! Translation: One morning I was awakened and found the invader Oh partisan, take me away, I feel I am dying And if I die with the partisan you must bury me And bury me up there on the mountain under the shade of a beautiful flower All the people who will pass by will say: “Oh what a lovely flower!” And this is the flower of the partisan who died for freedom!

I feel like going on. Though trials mount on every hand, I feel like going on.

There is power in a factory, power in the land. Power in the hand of the worker; But it all amounts to nothing if together we don’t stand. There is power in a union! Now the lessons of the past were all learned with workers’ blood. Mistakes of the bosses we must pay for! From the cities and the farmlands to trenches full of mud, War has always been the bosses way sir. The union forever, defending our rights! Down with the blackleg! The workers unite! With our brothers and our sisters in many far-off lands There is power in a union! Now I long for the morning that they realise Brutality and unjust laws will not defeat us. But who’ll defend the workers who cannot organise When the bosses send their lackeys out to cheat us? Money speaks for money, the Devil for his own. Who comes to speak for the skin and the bone? What a comfort to the widow! A light to the child! There is power in a union!

Usiqoqela ndawonye Rulumeni Senzeni Usiqoqela ndawonye Rulumeni Senzeni Sesibona lezo mpimpi Zifunukulwa nathi Sizabalaza sodwa Siqabalaza sodwa Translation: Tell us, Government What did we do? Now we see those traitors They want to fight with us We struggle alone

Thula mama, thula. Thula mama, thula. Samthatha sambeka ekhaya Wasuke wakhala Wathi mama thula. Bamthatha bambeka e Island Wasuke wakhala Wathi – Amandla!

Afrika, O Afrika Ngubani na olilayo? Thula mama, thula mama Ngubani na olilayo? Translation (from isiXhosa): Africa, O Africa ! Who’s crying? Hush Mama, hush Mama Who’s crying? .... Makhosikazi Ngula unyaka wethu Wathint’ abafazi Wathinta imbokodo Basopha uzakufa Side by side Women of the world Side by side Fight for freedom Side by side Women of the world Side by side Fight for freedom now Translation (from isiZulu): Women, it is our year He touched the women He touched a boulder They will bleed to death! .... Rolihlahla Mandela Freedom is in your hands Show us the way to freedom In this land of Africa Mandela, Mandela, Mandela Mandela says freedom now Now we say away with slavery In this land of Africa

Senzeni na? Senzeni na? Wenzeni na uMandela? Sono sethu bubu mnyama Wabulele afe wonke Senzenina? Senzenina? .... (Possibly innacurate) Translation from isiZulu: What have we done? What has Mandela done? Our sin is being black! He killed them all What have we done?

You and I can share the silence, Finding comfort together the way old friends do. And after fights, and words of violence, We make up with each other the way old friends do. Times of joy and times of sorrow, We will always see it through. And I don’t care what comes tomorrow, We can face it together the way old friends do