The time shall come when wrong shall end,
When peasant to peer no more shall bend;
When the lordly Few shall lose their sway,
And the Many no more their frown obey.
Toil, brothers, toil, till the work is done,
Till the struggle is o’er, and the Charter won!
The time shall come when the artisan
Shall homage no more the titled man;
When the moiling men who delve the mine
By Mammon’s decree no more shall pine.
Toil, brothers, toil, till the work is done,
Till the struggle is o’er, and the Charter won.
The time shall come when the weavers’ band
Shall hunger no more in their fatherland;
When the factory-child can sleep till day,
And smile while it dreams of sport and play.
Toil, brothers, toil, till the work is done,
Till the struggle is o’er, and the Charter won.
The time shall come when Man shall hold
His brother more dear than sordid gold;
When the negro’s stain his freeborn mind
Shall sever no more from human-kind.
Toil, brothers, toil, till the world is free,
Till Justice and Love hold jubilee.
The time shall come when kingly crown
And mitre for toys of the past are shown;
When the fierce and false alike shall fall,
And mercy and truth encircle all.
Toil, brothers, toil, till the world is free,
Till Mercy and Truth hold jubilee!
The time shall come when earth shall be
A garden of joy, from sea to sea,
When the slaughterous sword is drawn to more,
And goodness exults from shore to shore.
Toil, brothers, toil, till the world is free,
Till goodness shall hold high jubilee!
When peasant to peer no more shall bend;
When the lordly Few shall lose their sway,
And the Many no more their frown obey.
Toil, brothers, toil, till the work is done,
Till the struggle is o’er, and the Charter won!
The time shall come when the artisan
Shall homage no more the titled man;
When the moiling men who delve the mine
By Mammon’s decree no more shall pine.
Toil, brothers, toil, till the work is done,
Till the struggle is o’er, and the Charter won.
The time shall come when the weavers’ band
Shall hunger no more in their fatherland;
When the factory-child can sleep till day,
And smile while it dreams of sport and play.
Toil, brothers, toil, till the work is done,
Till the struggle is o’er, and the Charter won.
The time shall come when Man shall hold
His brother more dear than sordid gold;
When the negro’s stain his freeborn mind
Shall sever no more from human-kind.
Toil, brothers, toil, till the world is free,
Till Justice and Love hold jubilee.
The time shall come when kingly crown
And mitre for toys of the past are shown;
When the fierce and false alike shall fall,
And mercy and truth encircle all.
Toil, brothers, toil, till the world is free,
Till Mercy and Truth hold jubilee!
The time shall come when earth shall be
A garden of joy, from sea to sea,
When the slaughterous sword is drawn to more,
And goodness exults from shore to shore.
Toil, brothers, toil, till the world is free,
Till goodness shall hold high jubilee!
Contributed by Bernart Bartleby - 2015/4/28 - 11:08
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Versi di Thomas Cooper (1805–1892), calzolaio, poeta ed intellettuale autodidatta, figura preminente del movimento Cartista inglese.
Sull’aria di “Canadian Boat-Song”, nota canzone dei primi dell’800.
Testo trovato sul “mio” sito, Bartleby.com
Thomas Cooper scrisse questa e molte altre canzoni (e pure il suo poema più noto, “Purgatory of Suicides”) nei due anni che trascorse nella prigione di Stafford a causa della sua adesione al movimento Cartista. E di quel movimento proto-socialista fu esponente talmente di spicco che l’ordine del suo arresto arrivò direttamente dalla regina Vittoria, che tra il 1840 ed il 1842 aveva subito ben tre attentati che in molti all’epoca avevano ricondotto ad un complotto dei cartisti.
Uscito di galera Cooper prese le distanze dal radicalismo cartista e purtoppo divenne un molesto predicatore religioso…