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Well, the guns of war have roared |
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And the bombs and shells have fallen |
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The war clouds, they rambled as they roared |
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I was a soldier in that fight |
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And I fought until we won |
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My uniform is my dirty overhauls |
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This piece of land that I stand on is my battlefield and home |
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My plough and my hoe is my gun |
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Clothes don't make no difference at all |
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We are workers, fighters all |
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Marching in our dirty overhauls |
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Well, I give you my sweat |
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And I give you my blood |
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I give you your bread and your wine |
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Before I be any man's slave, I'll be rotting down in my grave |
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Lay me down in my dirty overhauls |
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It seems so onerous to me, this blatant thievery |
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Stretchin' out its wicked, crooked hand |
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Well, we're settled here to stay |
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And we'll stick here all our days |
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Marching in our dirty overhauls |
