Come Forth, You Workers! Let The Fires Go Cold - Let The Iron Spill Out, Out Of The Troughs - Let The Iron Run Wild Like A Red Bramble On The Floors - Leave The Mill And The Foundry And The Mine And The Shrapnel Lying On The Wharves - Leave The Desk And The Shuttle And The Loom - Come, With Your Ashen Lives, Your Lives Like Dust In Your Hands. I Call Upon You, Workers. It Is Not Yet Light But I Beat Upon Your Doors. You Say You Await The Dawn But I Say You Are The Dawn. Come, In Your Irresistible Unspent Force And Make New Light Upon The Mountains. You Have Turned Deaf Ears To Others - Me You Shall Hear. Out Of The Mouths Of Turbines, Out Of The Turgid Throats Of Engines, Over The Whistling Steam, You Shall Hear Me Shrilly Piping. Your Mills I Shall Enter Like The Wind, And Blow Upon Your Hearts, Kindling The Slow Fire. They Think They Have Tamed You, Workers - Beaten You To A Tool To Scoop Up Hot Honor Till It Be Cool - But Out Of The Passion Of The Red Frontiers A Great Flower Trembles And Burns And Glows And Each Of Its Petals Is A People. Come Forth, You Workers - Clinging To Your Stable And Your Wisp Of Warm Straw - Let The Fires Grow Cold, Let The Iron Spill Out Of The Troughs, Let The Iron Run Wild Like A Red Bramble On The Floors.... As Our Forefathers Stood On The Prairies So Let Us Stand In A Ring, Let Us Tear Up Their Prisons Like Grass And Beat Them To Barricades - Let Us Meet The Fire Of Their Guns With A Greater Fire, Till The Birds Shall Fly To The Mountains For One Safe Bough.