/leftypol/ - Leftist Politically Incorrect

A favourite of mine: a swedish song about class struggle throughout the ages.

The land lay desolate – the land of stones
The land of firs – of reindeer lichen and rock
And the earth gave life to worms and eagles
Limbs and wolves among snow-covered mountains
But then one morning your feet stepped
Big and heavy on untrodden ground
And the land grabbed you with hungry arms
And fought against you to life and death
But the strength of man it would win
Though the rock was dyed red

But freedom was drowned in the power of the whips
Private property took you as a slave
And the earth drank blood and the earth drank tears
And the thistles grew on the graves of the slaves
But then one morning your battle cry was raised
The class struggle was born with axe and crowbar
And the chieftain's fighters – they swung their swords
And fought against you to life and death
But the strength of man it would win
Though the settlement was dyed red

In a plague-ravaged land you ditched the marshes
And the land gave crops in thanks for your sweat
But the land was seized and soon you had to plow
Merely to feed a rich man's farm
But then one morning you stood by The cottages
Ready to fight for fields and bread
And the lord's knights - they raised their rifles
And fought against you to the death
But the strength of man would prevail
Although the village road was dyed red
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One day the baron said: Get off my field
Your work doesn't make me rich enough
And hungry and frozen you came to the city
Where you got a job at the nearest factory
But then one morning the fires went out
Fists were raised and you went on strike
And the burghers' jacks with whips and sabres
They fought you to life and death
But the strength of man would triumph
And the banner was dyed red

Oh, you who have carried my seed through the night
Was it only to see me give up
I swear by your name that it was not in vain
You bore these torments and carried this hope
For perhaps tomorrow we will stand as brothers
When the working class makes a revolution
May the armies of the burghers march against us
And fight us to life and death
For the strength of man will triumph once again
Although the paving stones will be dyed red